Alternatives
by NuclearFirecracker
Summary: An alternate universe to the sequel, kept in (mostly) the same setting with a different plot and character changes. Erik escapes from France after his life shatters spectacularly and he has to make a strange pact with a person he barely knows. A story about loving, growing, and occasional adventures.
1. Alternatives

Alternatives

 _January 1894, Paris_

The first two weeks after the fire in the Opera the thin young man in Antoinette's spare room barely ever spoke. He was awake most of the time, but seemed somehow not entirely present; he seemed to be so trapped in his own thoughts that he remembered almost nothing of the things she told him, or the events that transpired in the previous weeks. He later confirmed remembering Antoinette coming to get him and forcing him on his feet, covering him in a thick hooded cloak, but seemed to have no memory of how they reached her house. She was inclined to think it was more merciful that way, since he wept silently all the way there. She put him in the same room as the first time he was at her house eleven years prior, hoping at least the familiarity of the place would be comforting to him; it was a small spare room her daughter never entered. She made sure he had all he would need and told him to keep quiet or they'd both be doomed if they found him. Seemingly waking up from a trance, the man looked directly at her and nodded, only to continue staring straight ahead with a disturbingly empty look in his eyes.

The man, seemingly completely disconnected from the outside, was more of a raging storm on the inside and it didn't take long for whatever was holding him together to break. Even though Antoinette had to admit he listened to her and didn't make a noise, she soon found out she would nevertheless not get to relax for a while longer. The morning after his return, she entered the room to find him curled up on the bed, clawing away at the skin of his neck and scalp; his face beneath the white leather mask was contorted in a silent scream. Tears streamed down his face as he seemed completely unaware of her presence. Antoinette found out in the following days that there are in fact many ways someone can inflict harm upon himself without being heard or noticed, and she decided to keep constant watch on him. She spent those days in the room with him in near darkness, as the light seemed to upset him further, pretending she wasn't bothered by the nonsense that came out of his mouth, or the incredibly eerie way he seemed to move around the room at times when he would grow more agitated. His movements were quick and silent, but looked unnatural somehow – twitchy like a ghost trapped in a doll, he seemed to have to make a conscious effort to navigate his body from the inside, but without any regard to the safety of the vessel that carried him. It wasn't her first time seeing him like this, but that didn't make it any less unnerving. He refused – or, more accurately, ignored completely – all the food she brought him, and seemed to be unable to sleep more than a few hours at a time, which meant she had to adapt and do the same if she wanted to keep watch. She wondered how long this would last, and if it would even get better at all as she sat next to him and witnessed his silent but obvious agony.

Just when she thought she would go insane as well, he calmed down. From then on, he tried to distract himself with anything he could get his hands on – but he still had so little focus that he couldn't really _do_ anything. He still seemed unable to hold a normal conversation, though at least he no longer talked absolute disconnected nonsense, and instead even got out an occasional lucid sentence or two. He would occasionally pick up a book that she brought him. She wished she could afford to let him play the piano, but it was out of the question – it attracted attention, and she was afraid somebody might connect two and two together. Books provided him with temporary relief, letting him escape into some imaginary realm for a short time. Most of the time, though, he paced nervously around the room or stared at some point in the wall. He still slept very little until he collapsed for nearly a day. In that state, those first weeks passed. He became more lucid after a while, but as his reason returned, he seemed to be drained of all emotion and energy he previously had. He remained on the bed, staring silently ahead, lost in his thoughts – which, if his words were any indication, were a horrible place to get lost in.

Antoinette being herself, it was only a matter of time before she lost her patience. After the man had sufficiently made his suffering known, she one day decided she'd had enough. Without warning, one evening she burst into the room, violently drawing back the curtains and opening windows, tidying the room before turning to him.

„Get up!"

He didn't care.

„Get up, I said!"

He barely registered her through the haze of nonsensical thoughts occupying him.

„This is not a matter for debate! You will get up right now, and, and wash yourself, and eat something, and we will talk about what we're going to do now!"

He had no energy to do any of that, really.

She must've realized that, and the annoyed, angry look on her face was replaced with concern.

She sat on the edge of the bed next to him, leaned on the wall, and spoke quietly this time.

„I know this must have been horrible for you. I care about you, and I am trying to help you, really. I thought you were getting better, but you went from constant outbursts to no emotion at all, and I don't see how that's better."

He didn't really feel like debating if it's better to actively want to die or passively wait for it to happen, so he kept silent. But she continued.

„I want you to get on your feet and try to eat something for a change. You'll feel much better. Please. Get up and come with me."

 _I really could do that_ , he thought, _if she gave me a few more weeks. Months, maybe. She does have a point. I feel bad for her, having me in her life again, taking care of me and getting nothing in return. I guess she thought it would end differently when she pulled me out of that cage. She must've thought I would be a man worth something in the end, not this destructive unforgivable mons-_

His inner monologue was interrupted when she threw an entire pitcher of cold water in his face.

„WHAT - "

„OH, so you can still speak! Good, now that I have your attention, you can go ahead and get up before I get more water! Either you will go willingly, or I swear I will drown you in this room one glass at a time!" Antoinette made a mental note she would later apologize for throwing something at his face, but right now she couldn't afford to show weakness. She looked at him authoritatively from above, her arms crossed and brow furrowed.

He stared at her with disdain. The shock of cold water combined with newfound hate for Antoinette did raise his pulse enough to make standing more doable. She grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet, and he stayed there, realizing he was actually weak with hunger.

„Very well. I'll go", he managed through his teeth. His voice sounded lower and coarser than he remembered it.

„Great!" she smiled, „There are clean clothes waiting for you in the bath. Come to the kitchen when you're ready." She patted him on the back gently, sending him on his way. He had already commited to this, he realized, so there was no quitting now.

The man locked the bathroom door behind him, covered the mirror with a towel and, lowering his mask on the cabinet, started washing his face and hair in the small sink. He had to admit his head did feel a bit less clouded afterward, as he dried his hair with the towel, facing away from the mirror. He had always enjoyed it, the small pleasure of feeling clean and smelling good. He never really had the luxury until he met Anoinette eleven years prior. He could remember washing the dirt and smell and neglect off of his abused, emaciated body; her bandaging his wrists and ankles, treating him like a being worth of sympathy and care. He had made it a point to do that regularly from then on, not only for the cosmetic reasons. It made him feel more... well, human.

Eventually he put on some fresh clothes and joined her in the kitchen. As she was heating up a stew, she looked over at him and smiled. She was making a conscious effort to seem normal and cheerful, and it grated against her own ears, but she had to do _something._

„My boy! You look better already. Come, sit and eat first. We'll talk later." He obediently sat down to the table and looked at her, stiff and silent, anxiously awaiting for her to talk. He was aware this wouldn't go on forever, but dreaded being kicked out so soon. There was nowhere to go, and the world didn't seem particularly friendly. She waited for him to finish eating before she pushed the subject again.

„I'm very glad you're feeling better, Erik. I'd like to help you get out of this alive, one way or another."

She paused.

„But, I am afraid that this is all I can do for you. I can't give you anything but this one spare room, and that's not much of a living. The police are still looking for you. We need a long-term plan."

„Do you perchance have any other basements I could hide in?" he asked dryly, and she slapped his arm.

„Oh, and that attitude is back already! Good to see you alive, Erik."

„Mhm."

„No, I don't. As much as I would like to have you within my sight, too, I'm afraid you won't be safe as long as you stay in France."

„That much is clear."

„Yes, I've thought about it for some time, and I think it's best if we get you out of here. I'll find you a ship, I have some savings to pay your fare- "

„Madam, I'd say those savings are better spent on someone who's not a crimin- "

„ _Quiet_ , now, they are my savings and I'll spend them as I like. I'll find a ship that goes somewhere far, arrange that they take you, no questions asked, and you might even have some spare money so you can survive at first."

„But-"

„Do you really wish to argue minute details of your escape, which I will pay for and arrange, with me?"

„No."

„Then it's decided. I admit I have no idea how you'll survive once you get there." She looked up from her plate at him, suddenly sharp and formidable. „But I want you to know this. I am doing this for you. I am doing this because I truly believe, from the bottom of my heart, that you will make it right this time. No one else can be hurt. I'll do everything in my power to help you live like an honest man, but you have to promise me that you'll do just as much."

He suddenly felt very small.

„I'll try."

„You'll try your very best to respect what I'm doing and what I believe to be true about you."

„Yes. Although I think you're mistaken. But I'll try."

„Then it will be worth it."

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Thick snow fell in large, wet clumps on the streets of London, sticking to the brown mud and slush on the ground and making an absolute nuisance of itself. The city was even grayer, browner and wetter than normally and it was hard to keep one's spirits up in the bitter cold and depressing dark of the early January morning. The young woman navigating her way through the sludge normally loved snow and winter, but found it hard to enjoy with everything that was on her mind. She sped through the streets, not really making an effort to keep herself dry anymore.

Her life was not going very well, as much as it hurt her to admit. She walked towards the small orphanage where she worked, remembering there was a time when she got up in the morning eager to see her children and skipped through the streets with a smile on her face. Lately, she found herself with less and less energy to go about her daily life.

 _If something doesn't change, I might actually have to go back home,_ she thought. It was not a good option. She'd rather avoid admitting defeat; moreover, she'd rather avoid living under her father's roof again. The thought made her uneasy.

 _If I couldn't be happy in the wrong place doing the wrong things, I simply had to change something. It was never a problem before. Why is it a problem now?_

The answer was almost physically painful to think about.

 _I'm not in the wrong place and these are not the wrong things._

 _I'm the one that needs to change._

She opened the door to the orphanage and took off her coat and fur hat, shaking off the snow.

„Good morning, Miss Alina!" a tiny, seven year old girl ran up to her and embraced her.

She smiled sincerely, some of her bad mood dissipating. „Good morning, Alice. How are you today?" She followed the girl into the small classroom, pulling up her sleeves and beginning a long day of work.

Later that day, walking back through the snowy streets alone, Alina realized she felt tired, and not just from the amount of standing, running and talking she had done. A different kind of tiredness sat on her shoulders, and she had no idea how to brush it off, only that thinking about how to solve it made her slightly _more_ tired.

„Good evening, Mrs. Bigley", she smiled her best smile as she entered the hallway to her tiny apartment, passing her landlady who was currently sweeping the hallway floor.

„Good evening, dear. You look tired. Are you alright?" The middle-aged woman with her hair in a strict bun looked at her with worry.

„I am", she replied politely, not eager to explain which of the two. „How are you, madam?"

„Oh, you know", she laughed. „Earnest and I are going on a little trip next month. It's our anniversary. A little getaway in the countryside, just for a week."

„Congratulations!" Alina lit up.

„Isn't your birthday in a few weeks as well, dear?" Mrs. Bigley was good at chatting and doing chores at the same time, and Alina looked around for something to do to help her. She felt awkward just standing there and watching her work.

„It is", she admitted, opening a small closet door to take another broom. _Not that it's much more efficient like this._ „I'll be twenty-five. It sounds strange, doesn't it?"

„It sounds like you're getting old", Mrs. Bigley laughed. „Are you going home to celebrate?"

„Home? No, that's unlikely. It's a long and expensive trip, and I have work to do", she repeated the excuse she wrote in the letter to her mother. „But I might visit my – uh, aunt – in Paris for a few days. I wrote her a letter sometime ago, we'll see what she says. I haven't seen her in a while", she started talking, forgetting to sweep. „Mrs. Bigley, what do you think it takes for a person to feel like they matter?"

„Pardon me, dear?" Mrs. Bigley stopped as well to look at her.

„What do you think would take for a person to... feel like their existence made a difference?" she asked, suddenly feeling stupid. „I'm sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me lately. I do need a holiday."

„Are you alright, dear?" Mrs. Bigley asked. „Do you feel like you don't matter?"

„No, no, it's stupid. Forget I said anything."

The woman shot a glance at her from the corner of her eyes. „I suppose one would feel that way if they knew there were people left behind them who remembered them. Whose lives they changed, somehow."

„I suppose. And how does one go about achieving that?"

„That depends on the path they choose." Mrs. Bigley didn't like where this was going, and felt it was her duty to at least try to talk some sense into her eccentric young friend. Alina had been living under her roof for several years now, and was by all means a good tenant – she never caused trouble, she helped around the house and kept her rooms and kitchen clean, she would sometimes sit with Mrs. Bigley and chat politely over tea. Mrs. Bigley had grown used to chatting with her on weekends; it did not escape her that the young lady was growing somewhat weary and less energetic than her normal tireless self, and Mrs. Bigley thought it had something to do with the fact she spent more and more of her days working at that orphanage and spent a lot less time with her friends and family; as most of the other young ladies went to pursue other paths in life. „I think you're just lonely, dear. It doesn't take grand-scale fame and glory to be important, you know. Sometimes it's enough to have people you love, a family, someone to take care of. You're a lovely young lady, and I'm sure if you could take a break from losing your nerves over other people's children, you would find it more enjoyable to lose your nerves over your own children. They do come with husbands, as a bonus", Mrs. Bigley winked.

„You think that's what I need? It would make me happy?"

„I think so."

 _I really don't,_ Alina sighed.

„Oh, I almost forgot. You were waiting for a letter from Paris?" Mrs. Bigley turned around to reach one of the shelves. „Something did arrive. Here you go, darling. I hope you have a wonderful time with your aunt." She gave her a small bundle of letters, taking the broom gently from her hand. She thought it was a sweet gesture – Alina always trying to help her with whatever she was doing – and had no heart to tell her in the end it would often give her more work to do to fix the things Alina did wrong (or at least did completely different from how a competent and proper English housewife would do them, maybe due to cultural differences).

„My- oh, thank you. I should read this now. Have a nice evening, madam", she excused herself.

Alina went up to her room to read the letters that had arrived – one from her mother, about how disappointed she was Alina wouldn't visit this winter; one from her father, which contained more of the same but worded in a way that made Alina's skin crawl a tiny bit more, one from her sister – a birthday card with a badly-drawn picture of Alina surrounded by seventeen cats, and the one from Paris, with the return address of one Antoinette Giry.

Alina read the letter from her lifelong friend and mentor once, then twice, and then for the third time, trying to decide what to think about it. It seemed she would definitely be visiting auntie Giry very soon, and it also seemed it would be more eventful than she had previously imagined. Auntie had a „proposition" for her – to put it that way, because to Alina it seemed more like she needed help. Alina needed help from Antoinette so many times in her life that there was no chance she would ever refuse to return the favor if asked; the fact that Antoinette would not tell her openly exactly what she needed made her more than a little worried.

Taking out her little timetable containing schedules of various trains, Alina wrote a brief reply confirming her arrival to Le Havre next week.

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The next few days were spent negotiating and preparing. Antoinette took a train to Le Havre and spent days trying to find a ship with low enough standards to accept any passengers without asking questions, while Erik nervously paced around the room cleaning up the mess, packing up and readying himself, somewhat better now that he had something to do. Antoinette's daughter, Meg, between work and her friends only came home to sleep and wasn't altogether hard to avoid; Erik would only have to be careful to keep quiet and not leave a trace of his presence when she was around. Whatever excuses Antoinette gave her for her absence, something about meeting some young former protegee of hers in Le Havre, Meg must have believed them. After a few days, Antoinette found a small cargo ship with a remarkably uncaring captain. As long as „her son" didn't disturb the crew or try to sabotage the ship, he said, he was fine to go, but if he tried anything, his boys would make sure he wasn't a nuisance anymore. Provided he even survived the journey all the way across the Atlantic ocean in winter. Antoinette paid him a generous sum in advance and told him he'd get the rest when they arrived, and a bonus if she got a letter from her son confirming his safe arrival to his destination. This seemed to seal the deal for the man, and Antoinette sincerely hoped he valued money more than Erik valued his own life. She went back, not at all reassured.

„What do you think of him?", Erik asked Antoinette that evening when she came back to tell him the news.

„I'd rather not think of him at all. Not a likable man. But I've heard he does keep his word, and he agreed to take you for the money I offered. He won't harm you, but he won't lift a finger to help you, either. You're on your own."

Erik nodded. That much he had learned by now. The thought of going outside and putting his life in the hands of those people horrified him, but upon reminding himself it was his own fault, he decided to keep his pride and not voice out his concerns.

Antoinette knew him well, though.

„That sounds rather bad now that I think about it."

„I'll manage it. I can take care of myself, I'm not a child."

„You'll have to, since we have no other option. And I believe you're capable of surviving anything at this point." She smiled. The sincerity in her compliment didn't escape him, but he never was very good at receiving her compliments, so he brushed it off. „There are also other matters we have to discuss."

„Such as?"

„Well, such as the fact your spoken English is not that good, you are still wanted here and are otherwise not very welcome as an immigrant in the New World. It's not just sailing the sea, you have to stay there once you reach New York." She tried to sound casual as she recited her prepared speech.

„I'll sneak in. I'm good at it", he shrugged.

„You are", she nodded, „but there might be another way. I know someone who can go with you and help get you across the border. It might be a chance for you to get a better start. Not from the absolute bottom."

 _That_ was rather unexpected. He stared at her in shock for a moment.

„And just why would this _someone_ do that? Is this a person with nothing better to do? Someone who regularly smuggles people into America? What even makes you think _I_ want that?"

„You do want that. It would make a huge difference to have someone of trust for a change."

„Why would I trust this hypothetical person?"

„It's not a hypothetical person. She's here in Paris, and I'd trust her with my own life as I would with yours." For all it was worth, Antoinette was telling the truth; the problem was whether that would be enough.

„ _She?_ "

„Yes, in fact, it's a _she._ She is a friend of mine that I've known since she was a child. She'd gladly help you, I think, partly as a favor to me. She owes me a few favors for similar reasons that you do. Also, her heart is in the right place. She'll do it if it's the right thing to do."

Erik was annoyed for most of this conversation, and he felt it intensifying as tingly spikes of anger crept up his spine. He realized he was raising his voice halfway through the sentence.

„But it's not the right thing to do, is it, she'd be smuggling a goddamned _freak of nature_ who also happens to be a criminal and I don't see how her righteous sensitivities would be alright with that!"

„Well _perhaps_ if you had paid any attention to anything I've been saying and doing until now you'd notice that not everyone's righteous sensitivites are as shallow as you make them out to be!" She stood up, yelling as well. He couldn't say anything to that. Erik had never in any way diminished what Antoinette did for him and now was not the time to start. He was well aware he owed her his life and sanity, and a very basic sense of decency told him he should probably not be making miserable the only person close to family he had left. If she wanted him to play along in this then he would have to do so. For now, at least.

„Alright. How will I find this person?"

„You don't have to. I'll have her come over in a few days so you can meet her without risking being seen."

„What?"

„Yes. I'll give you time to prepare. Be polite."

„I don't- "

„For Christ's sake, Erik, you'll survive! If you absolutely cannot cooperate, you can bloody well go on your own! Just give it that one shot at having someone help you for once!"

He nodded without a word, still furious. Antoinette excused herself to bed and he went to his own little room to think.

Antoinette always had a specific way of shutting Erik up. Never in his adult life did he put up with someone yelling at him – _well, except for, actually nevermind_ – but Antoinette was different, and she was so _good_ at it. She showed a strange mixture of acceptance for who he was, as well as high expectations for who he should become. It made her a very hard person to disappoint. She had always managed to criticize his actions without ever insulting him - a natural teacher, perfected by decades in the ballet.

When Erik first met her, he found her extremely strange. Until then, he thought there were very limited things he could be – such as a monster, a freak, a demon and so on. Whatever he did, he felt it confirmed one or more of those attributes. He found it absolutely shocking when he first did something that made her mad and she didn't suddenly think he was the devil himself all along and want to send him back. Although he did hear his fair share of scolding over the years, he never felt any doubt in her care for him – which was not something he could say about anyone else in his life. It took him a while to understand some things she took as simple truths, such as that people are people, even when they do something wrong or look a certain way. He was not entirely sure he actually accepted that yet. _If she's not there, will I still be myself?_

As his anger dissipated, Erik realized that soon he might never see her again.

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The woman arrived in two days. Antoinette told Erik she talked to her beforehand, and that she agreed to come and discuss how she could help.

"It seems that Alina was thinking of moving before I spoke to her", she said.

"What… have you told her about me, exactly?" Erik asked carefully, unsure if he wanted to know.

"That you're a fugitive and that I needed her help so you could escape unnoticed."

"And she didn't question it?" He raised his eyebrows under the mask.

"It's not that she didn't question it so much that she didn't question _me_ ", Antoinette admitted. "I told her a friend of mine was escaping police, and that I personally want to help him escape because I think a lot of injustice has been done to him and he deserves a chance to start anew."

"She seems to trust you a great deal." _I almost feel bad that you're deceiving her like this,_ he thought, but he couldn't help but feel grateful that she wouldn't know all the gritty details.

"We do share some similar attitudes towards the world", she shrugged. "In any case, you can tell her as much or as little about yourself as you please once you're on your way."

"We'll see what she says once she comes here." Erik was still furious about it all. He didn't want to be sitting there, meeting a strange woman and dealing with her inevitable _reactions_. He had had enough of those in his lifetime, and he didn't even want to interact with a single person in the whole world in that moment. _Why do I even need this? I'd always found a way to survive alone._

The recent realization that Giry would soon be gone; rather, that he would be gone kept him silent. He noticed she looked much older as of late, tired somehow, perhaps from the strain of having to care for someone going through a mental breakdown. All of it made him… sad. Not furiously, maddeningly sad like before, but simply sad. It kept him calmer. He tried hard as he could to make her life easier.

When the woman – _Alina, was it?_ – arrived, Erik was hesitant. He truly, really didn't want to deal with the possibility of Antoinette being wrong. A woman screaming after seeing him would not only grate on his already raw nerves, but would also be quite dangerous in this situation. He remained in my designated room while Antoinette went out to greet the woman. He checked everything twice – his shirt covered every single part of his arms, his gloves were in place, his mask never even left his face but he checked it twice and tied a few more knots, anyway. Just as he was considering tying a couple more just in case, Antoinette came in.

"Would you like to join us?"

 _No, I definitely would rather stay here._ But he went after her, anyway.

As he entered the living room he noticed her immediately.

An unusually tall woman – although, the top of her head still barely reached above Erik's chin – stood in the middle of the room and looked around nervously. She turned her head immediately when she heard him arriving. She was tall, and slim, and long - limbed; dressed in a very simple black dress and jacket. Her hair was brown, pulled back in a bun, and her eyes beneath dark eyebrows were brown, and her skin was a light olive-brown. She looked vaguely foreign - Italian, maybe. Maybe not. Erik was told she only spoke English and some convoluted Slavic mess of a language. Her jaw was sharp and angular, but her eyes beneath dark eyebrows were soft. Warm and friendly. He could see why Antoinette trusted her – something about the warm eyes and inviting smile. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw him, and he braced himself for what would happen next - but nothing happened. She composed herself within a second, as something definitely neither soft nor warm swiftly passed through her eyes.

Erik found himself observing her more carefully than he had intended to.

Alina, on the other hand, had to give herself credit for keeping her wits about her as auntie Giry introduced her to the strangest man she had ever seen in her life. Auntie did mention _Don't gawk at the mask, my dear,_ which Alina would not have done anyway, since she did understand the concept of manners. _But I guess in her good intentions she forgot to mention everything else,_ she thought, such as the fact he was incredibly tall and eerily thin and _so_ _pale_ or that his overall posture and mannerisms were quite intimidating or that his eyes beneath the mask were an unmistakeable shade of yellow. _Not that I mind that_ , she thought. _The yellow eyes are rather striking._

 _On an otherwise frightening fellow._

A mask made of some kind of white leather covered most of his face, with only enough of his mouth and lower jaw exposed that he could talk and eat. For what it was worth, it seemed like a normal-looking jaw, but it unnerved Alina that she couldn't see his facial expressions. Above the mask, straight black hair hung a bit messy around his temples. It might've looked good if he'd combed it back, but it looked like he just snipped the front parts so they wouldn't get in his eyes, and then someone tried to salvage it by cutting it short and tidy on the back of his head.

Alina only had to keep her face straight for a split second before she remembered that her mother didn't raise her to be a judgemental arse towards people she didn't even know. In a desperate attempt to not make the man more self-conscious than he probably already was, she smiled her best pleased-to-meet-you smile and introduced herself like a proper human being.

„Glad to meet you, sir. I'm Alina." She held out her hand. Right hand, too. She didn't make the stupid mistake of offering someone her left hand again and then having to explain _it's my_ _dominant hand-_

But the man stood still and looked at her in that same unnerving manner that made her feel _very_ insecure. _What did I do? What did I do? Did I offend him?_ She wondered before noticing in the corner of her eye that his hands were covered with gloves, and that his body was almost completely covered in clothing and _oh my God he probably doesn't like when people_ _touch_ _him he's going to be offended now_ so she started lowering her hand –

\- but he accepted it and lightly shook it for a second. Alina felt her heart start beating for the first time in what felt like eternity.

 _God, I hate meeting people. I_ _hate_ _people. I'm not too fond of myself at this moment either._

„Hello", he said quietly.

Antoinette gestured for them to sit down at the kitchen table, pouring Alina a cup of coffee – which, thankfully, have her something to occupy her hands with. _What an absurd situation_ , she thought. _What is wrong with me? Have I lost my mind? I'm not a child anymore, and I'm not so delicate to be afraid of anything, let alone some unknown man. I am an adult, and I will handle this like one._ She decided to gather herself quickly.

The man observed Alina quietly and for a moment she thought his unusual eyes could see all of her secrets.

She noticed he wasn't drinking anything. _Well, that's his problem_ , she thought as she drank Giry's delicious coffee a little too quickly for a proper young lady.

„How have you been, Alina?" Antoinette said. „I have not seen you in ages."

„No-one has seen me in ages, actually", she replied sadly. „I've been busy."

„How's work?"

„Distressing. Depressing. Underpaid. Poor job security."

„Who's upsetting you, the children?", she asked.

„The kids are alright, for most of the time, they do the best they can. We get along. It's the adults that bother me on a daily basis." The man – Erik, she remembered – was looking at her with interest now.

„Shame", she said, „but I do believe you're making a difference, there. Didn't you mention the orphanage children were getting calmer and friendlier over the past few months?"

„It's not like they could possibly have gotten louder and more problematic, ma'am."

She laughed. „Well, at any point, you did some good there. Am I right in assuming that you're ready for a change of scenery now?"

„You are right, yes. This job is eating me alive."

She did it in a subtle manner, but the tone of the conversation shifted slightly. Alina knew what Antoinette was referring to because they had spoken about it earlier, and it still made her suspicious. She already knew that she wouldn't say no, and she knew that Antoinette knew it, and it made her even more suspicious. The whole thing didn't seem so bad at first, and Alina trusted that Antoinette wouldn't just trick her into a dangerous situation for no good reason.

But she was still on her toes, moreso from the presence of the eerily silent man.

„I'd like to discuss this directly", she said. She happened to hate covert, roundabout, walking-on-eggshells type of conversations. She turned to the man, who was still silently attentive.

„You'd like me to go with you to New York and ensure you get in with as little trouble as possible, and teach you some English, and make sure they don't kick you out or kill you when you arrive. Right?"

He paused. „Yes and no."

„Sorry?" she raised her eyebrows.

He paused again. „I am better at listening than speaking English." Alina noticed he actually sounded very pleasant when he spoke, his voice deep and melodic. His accent was strange, pronounciation slightly awkward. _Did he learn this much without actually speaking it to anyone?_

Gesturing at Antoinette, he continued, „she wants you to do it, not I. Her idea."

 _Well, this was not mentioned._ Alina didn't like it.

„And what do _you_ want?" she asked him, lowering her cup on the table.

The question caught him off guard. „I don't know."

„I've been told you have no other option but to escape. That the parisian police will surely hunt you down if you stay here, and then it's over for you."

„That is true."

„I've also been told that you know absolutely nobody in the world that would help you escape, except for auntie Giry, and if I go with you, then also me."

„Also true."

„Do you think you can manage it alone, then?"

„Maybe", he replied slowly.

„Would someone please explain what is going on, then?" Alina asked, feeling like she didn't really want to get involved in all this.

Antoinette opened her mouth, but he waved his hand at her, still looking at Alina. He seemed impressed by the fact she was speaking and looking at him at the same time.

„I don't care what happens to me. I don't care if I live or die. She cares."

He continued, „She also thinks I deserve to live, and I don't. I think you should know that."

 _I was right_ , she thought. _I really don't want to get involved in all this._

And, she realized, she was getting angry. But this was something she could deal with. The angrier she got, the less afraid she was, and found herself suddenly much more composed than moments prior. _I think i know what this is about,_ it dawned on her. _I've seen this type of situation in the orphanage, and back when I worked at the hospital._

Just another crisis to handle. Nothing personal.

Alina turned toward Antoinette, suddenly realizing what the problem was.

„Auntie Giry, this man clearly does not want to go with me."

Antoinette gave her a look that could have easily cut straight through a stone cliff. „You promised me. Seventeen years ago. Do you remember?"

„I do very much remember, Madam. And if you are honestly saying this man is being unfairly hunted down, if you say he deserves an honest chance, then by God I believe you because I know you and I've never seen you wrong in your assesments of people's character. You told me that Erik is a good person, and by my heart I believe it, I swear."

He looked a bit shaken now. _Good,_ she thought. _I want him to be._ Antoinette, on her end, still looked at her with icy anger that made Alina's skin crawl.

„However," she continued, doing her best to seem convincing and authoritative, „I find it unfair to force my assistance on anyone, no matter how few options they may have left. This man may not have much of a choice, but out of respect for his human dignity we have to still let him choose."

Antoinette went silent as Alina turned to the seemingly suicidal stranger sitting across from her.

„I have worked with various people for close to seven years now, sir, and I am very good at what I do. But I have never denied someone the basic choice of accepting or ignoring my help. It would be an offense to you, as well as me, to be put in such a situation. If you wish for me to travel with you, I will, and I expect nothing in return save for the same respect I have shown you. If you do not, however, I won't do it, even if it means owing this debt to madam Giry for the rest of my life."

He took his time processing her words. _He looks a bit too shocked by being called a good person_ , she thought. Something about it suddenly made her incredibly sad.

He nodded. „I'll go", and after a short pause, added „With you."

Antoinette smiled.

„But", he said, „I have a... hm. Condition?" He was actually unsure about the word, not the fact that he wanted to negotiate, it seemed.

„Alright, I'm listening", Alina nodded.

He took a deep breath while he composed the sentence in his mind and for a moment, he seemed more relatable. _Likable, even_ , Alina thought.

„As I said, I don't care if I live or die. There is only one thing I want to avoid." He looked straight at her again with those unnerving eyes – „I don't want to be caught. I don't want to be in chains until I die. I prefer if you kill me, rather than let them have me."

„What?" _What?_

„Yes. I don't want to live like an animal. I'd rather die than let it happen again." In a very upside-down, messed-up way, Alina could see how that made sense. _What does he mean,_ _again?_ "You sound like you understand that", he added, nodding at her.

 _I knew this would somehow be my fault,_ she thought weakly. _I knew these rants about freedom and human rights would bury me some day. It's sort of fitting._

"And you want me to promise that I'd kill you if they catch you?" was all she could manage.

He shrugged. "Not really. I know how. Just promise to help me do it."

Alina came very close to killing her own damn self at that very moment for the sake of getting out of that situation. Antoinette was still so furious that Alina was afraid she might end the dilemma right then and there by straight-up murdering them both. _I still owe her. I promised to pass on the favor, to do some good in this world. She never asked anything from me until now._

 _But, how can I promise something like this?_

He put his elbows on the table and watched Alina intently with his fingers crossed in front of his mouth. Alina gave her best to think about it rationally, despite the obviously distracting, unnerving eyes poking holes in her head. Between the sleeve and the glove, a small patch of pale skin shone on the man's wrist. He didn't seem to notice his sleeve shifting and revealing it.

And on the pale wrist sat an even paler, deeply indented, ancient scar.

 _That's a peculiar location for a scar,_ Alina thought. _It looks too thick to be caused by a razor. Handcuffs, sooner. Ropes? Shackles?_

Alina suddenly knew exactly what she would do, reason be damned.

"I'll do it, alright. They won't catch you while I'm alive." She paused, suddenly having another disturbing thought. "Although I also have one condition. As long as they _don't_ catch you, you'll make an effort to stay alive. You'll go out of your way to actually live. Not harming anybody, including yourself. Is that fair?"

He thought about it, but ultimately knew he wouldn't get a better deal.

"That is fair", he nodded.

"Alright then. It's a deal." Alina offered the man her hand again – right one – and he shook it lightly. She found herself smiling as a wave of relief washed over her. _I did my best, auntie Giry. It'll have to do._

"I'm glad to be traveling with you", Alina said doing her best to be civil, and though it was true she was glad to be going away, she was also truthfully horrified by the idea of crossing the Atlantic in winter in a ship full of strangers and the human embodiment of an impassable maze.

Erik looked at Alina somewhat suspiciously. Perhaps the same thing occurred to him.

END OF CHAPTER 1

 _Ten years earlier, December 1883_

 _Two days before Christmas, Antoinette went back to the Opera with an excuse that she forgot her scarf. She thought it was a stupid excuse, since she never forgets anything, but they let her in anyway. She gave a small bottle to the man on the reception, Jean._

 _"Good day, Jean. I'm sorry you have to be here today."_

 _She could see he was delighted by the small gift._

 _"It's not a problem, Madame. I enjoy the peace and quiet for a change after all that ruckus we always get this time of year. It's not that bad, really. There's no one here but me and the Opera ghost", he laughed._

 _"You don't believe all that nonsense, do you? This opera is worse than a sewing circle."_

 _"No Madame, I am a man of science and skepticism", he winked at her playfully._

 _"Good. I'll just take care of my business and leave."_

 _"Go ahead, Madame."_

 _She went up to her room and locked the door, taking off her gloves and hat._

 _"Erik, are you there?" she said to the empty room._

 _No one answered._

 _"I just came by to give you something. I'll leave it here on my table, but I can't stay here long or someone might come looking for me."_

 _No one answered._

 _She walked up to the tiny table in the corner of the room, taking out a small package and letting it down with care._

 _"Here it is. Merry Christmas, Erik. These cookies are a present from me. Please stop stealing sweets from the manager's office. I'm not angry, so you can come out."_

 _No one answered._

 _"Alright. I'll see you soon. Goodbye."_

 _She stopped before unlocking the door to take a scarf out of her purse and wrap it around her neck. She'd never been caught in a lie, and she had no intention to start now._

 _As she left, a very thin figure emerged silently from the shadows and grabbed the small package, disappearing swiftly into the dark again._

 _She left the same way, nodding to the receptionist._

 _"Merry Christmas, Jean."_

 _"Merry Christmas, Madame. Did you see the Opera Ghost?" he asked playfully._

 _"Not today. I suppose he wasn't in the mood for talking."_

 _She stepped back into the cold snowy streets, shuddering. Meg was waiting for her back home. She picked up her pace. One cannot leave a child unattended for too long._

 _Several hundred kilometers to the east, Alina woke up with a mixture of dread and excitement._

 _What seemed to her like a horde of relatives arrived last night and today she had to go and greet them all with her best dress and her best pleased-to-meet-you smile. It better be the best one. She was determined this year she wouldn't tick anyone off, or let anyone tick her off. She wanted a peaceful family Christmas, and she was determined her foul mouth wouldn't get her in trouble this time._

 _She got dressed a little too slowly for the sake of prolonging the blessed peace and quiet, and jumped a little when her sister entered the room, already dressed and proper._

 _"Alina, there you are! Come down already, everyone's here."_

 _"Oh no." Not everyone at the same time. That was so much social interaction and etiquette all at once that she might actually faint. Or at least pretend to faint, if only to see mama's face._

 _"Well, you could have gotten up earlier."_

 _Amelija was right, of course._

 _"Please refrain from sassing our elders while we're down there. Mama and tata are doing their best but you know how they get when they're pressed from all sides like this."_

 _"Yes, yes, I know. I will. Unless they provoke me."_

 _"Especially if they provoke you, Alina."_

 _She rolled her eyes. Getting scolded by her younger sister made her severely annoyed every time, but Amelija was so good at keeping a cool head that Alina might actually benefit from following her example._

 _"Fine."_

 _"And relax. Everyone's excited to see you. They brought presents. I have a present for you too, but you can't see it until Christmas day."_

 _"I have one for you as well." She remembered the pair of hairpins wrapped neatly in her desk drawer._

 _"Let's go."_

 _As they walked downstairs, Amelija suddenly turned to her and whispered,_

 _"How long do you think until the first argument? I'm taking bets and cousin Jelka bet her gloves on tata and uncle breaking the ice fighting about politics. Could you cause some minor ruckus early so I win?" She flashed a brilliant smile, entering the room completely calm and graceful._

 _Alina was not so composed, and she had to stay a moment longer to let out a loud laugh in the hallway. She heard her mother speaking in the next room._

 _"What is it with her?"_

 _"No idea, mama. She's gone mad. But at least she's in a good mood, no? Let her be."_

 _Alina gathered herself swiftly and entered the room, still snickering slightly, ready to face the enormous, well-meaning, deafening horde._


	2. Goodbyes

2\. Goodbyes

The strangely controlled, anxious, manipulative woman left after talking through some details of the plan with Antoinette and drinking what seemed to be an entire gallon of strong coffee. She asked about Meg and sent her love, wishing she had more time to see her. It didn't escape Erik how tense she was the whole time. She let some of it show, but most of it poured out of her through small changes in the pitch of her voice, barely noticeable gestures and the way her eyes darted around the room when she talked. She was unnerved by him, but tried to hide it, going out of her way to show politeness and respect. He had to admit he appreciated the charade. She thought he was a creepy man, sure, but at least she was certain enough that he _was_ a man to feel ashamed of it.

She acted similar to Antoinette when she's working in the Opera. Still herself, but with a strict professional cover on top. Erik could not discern how she felt about everything, because she kept distracting him with words she thought would be the right ones to say.

Yet, he was sure she was genuine when she promised to help him. She looked straight into his eyes as she gave her speeches, and he could tell she truly believed the message behind them, even if the way she said it was carefully calculated to produce the desired effect. Her sincerity shook him a little bit, and in the end it was the sentiment that convinced him to cooperate more than the wrappings, although the wrappings were lovely.

 _We'll see._

The preparations took them quite some time. Alina had to get back to London, because that's where she lives; she only came to Paris to see Antoinette for the winter holidays – as she was kind enough to explain to him, even though he never asked. That made sense, since she didn't speak French, although Erik hadn't thought of it before. She said she'd take care of her business and pack up, and meet them the day before the ship sails out of Le Havre, in two weeks time. Two weeks which Erik spend jittery and nervous. He didn't have much to pack up; most of his belongins were left at the Opera. Antoinette, seeing his misery, tried sneaking back in to get some of them, finding her way through the basements according to his instructions. She found only some clothes, some of his drawings, notes and books.

„Have you perhaps seen my violin?" he asked tentatively, afraid of the answer.

The face she made immediately confirmed his fears to be true.

„I have seen... parts of a violin. Erik, I'm sorry."

He felt furious. „What kind of a savage breaks a violin? What did the violin do to anybody?"

„A lot of good and valuable things are broken back there. It may have been an accident", she offered.

Something told him it wasn't an accident. She couldn't look directly at him.

Erik sighed, remembering his resolution not to make her life harder. „Thank you anyway."

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"Hello, Mrs. Bigley", Alina greeted with a smile as she entered her landlady's apartment. Her own place was right above, and she often dropped by when she returned to say hello first.

"Hello, dear! You look better. How was your trip?" Mrs. Bigley was cleaning some peas in the kitchen, so Alina washed her hands and sat down with her to help. Mrs. Bigley had already seen the way Alina cooked, and while her food was perfectly edible, she was certain she would spend a lot more time daydreaming and chitchatting than cleaning the peas in the end. She decided not to comment on that.

"Good, good. I have some news", she took a breath. "I'm moving out of London in a few weeks. I had a talk with my aunt and we... came to the conclusion I should look for better prospects in life."

"Oh. That's sudden." Mrs. Bigley frowned.

"I'm sorry; I can pay another month's rent in advance. I won't inconvenience you."

"Where are you going?" Mrs. Bigley was sincerely concerned for her young friend's well-being, but had to admit she wouldn't turn down a month's rent this time of year.

"Oh... Paris, I'm moving in with auntie Giry for now." she realized how reckless _"I'm escaping to New York with a stranger"_ would sound to the old woman, and decided it would be better if she covered her tracks. "I... met someone, a man. Auntie introduced me to him", she offered. _To be fair, it's not exactly a lie._ "I, uh, I decided to listen to your advice."

"Oh, you did?" Mrs. Bigley cheered up. "Lovely! I knew you'd see reason and settle down one day, Alina."

"Ha, ha, yes. That's exactly what I'm doing", Alina laughed nervously, focusing on the peas.

 _Dear Mama,_

 _I hope this letter finds you well. When you receive it I will have already changed my address and I'll send you the new one as soon as I can._

 _I'm going to America on what I suppose you could call an adventure. Please don't die of a heart attack when you read this. No, you can't stop me. I will be fine. I'm not going alone. Teta Giry's trusted friend is going as well, and he said he'd watch out for me. I will not die. I'm going to find some work and a place to stay. I have gathered some money and some letters of recommendation._

 _I've left my apartment secure and paid another month's rent until you decide what to do with it. I left the keys to Mr. Bigley. I've grown tired of my job and the constant fighting with people around me, because as you may have noticed you can't get as much change done as you'd like if you're a young woman around here. I'm also trying to find my own luck and my own success, because I don't want to spend my life living in your shadow or under your control. This whole situation feels rather restricting. I hope you can understand. I don't blame you for anything, and I hope you won't blame me._

 _Send my love to everyone._

 _Love,_

 _Alina._

 _P.S. Don't tell Amelija that I stole her hairpins. I'll send her new ones from the Yankees._

It was good enough, Alina thought. She would have to give it to auntie Giry to send it after she leaves, because if she gets it too soon that stubborn woman might just fly over to France on her proverbial broomstick and snatch her out of the sky to bring her home.

It was carefully constructed, although not entirely true. Alina had no idea who this "trusted friend" was, and he'd certainly said nothing remotely close to "watching over her". But she'd been lying to her mother for many, many years. It's not that Alina got better at it so much as that her mother had gotten used to it, and when Alina ran off somewhere with a stupid excuse she wouldn't flinch anymore because it had happened so many times. Alina was apparently resourceful enough not to die on her own.

Her father was an entirely different story, which was why the letter was not addressed to him. _I'm sure they'll figure it out amongst themselves,_ she thought. _So will the others at the orphanage._ Alina gave her supervisors a fair two-week notice before she left and also letters explaining how she dealt with the more peculiar children. She made an effort to soften their transition after she left as much as she could.

This letter was the last thing she had to do before she left, so she braided her hair, put on her coat and fur hat and left her apartment. She tried her best to travel light, but the bag was still incredibly heavy, and her feet were slipping a little through the snow. She left the keys to Mr. and Mrs. Bigley as promised, wishing them goodbye and headed straight on the train to Portsmouth, where a ship headed to Le Havre was waiting for her. She waved goodbye to London in her mind. _I might actually miss this depressing place. I'll miss the depressing children, for sure. I'll miss my friends, though I've not made many of them. I'll miss the street cats. Damn, I might just miss them the most._

The ferry to Le Havre was boring as always. Alina tried reading to pass the time, sketching a little in her notebook, but it was no good. She couldn't focus. This trip has had her on edge for weeks, so much that she almost forgot her own birthday.

She only remembered it two days prior, and it made her panic. She had not imagined her twenty-fifth birthday going like this. She had imagined it with pomp and circumstance and a large celebration. If she recalled back far enough, she used to imagine it with a husband and a bunch of little chidren. She thought it strange how, as she got older, she no longer wanted the things she once did want - or thought she should want. And now she was running away to the Wild West with a man she could not figure out for the life of her.

 _Sometimes I understand why my mother's always yelling._

She had decided to drown her anxiety by baking a cake, and some cookies, and singing „Happy Birthday" to herself like a madwoman, barely quietly enough to not attract attention from Mrs. Bigley downstairs. She drank some of the rum she intended to put in the cake and fell asleep giggling after the treats were done. Luckily, she woke up fine today, so she managed to clean up, pack up and get on the ferry without trouble.

Meanwhile, Antoinette and Erik had to take a carriage to Le Havre to get to the ship. Train was out of question, but Antoinette managed to find a closed carriage with heavy curtains. They spent the trip in silence, and Antoinette decided it was best to leave Erik alone, seeing how anxious he seemed about what awaited him. She found then a small room close to the docks with a tiny kitchen and bathroom for one night, and tipped the owner well. Erik had to wear a scarf over his mask over his face the entire time, and a hood over his head, because the gendarmes were everywhere. Thankfully, it was so cold that nobody noticed much of their surroundings. He put down his bag in the corner of the room, knowing full well he would have a long and completely sleepless night ahead of him, when Antoinette hurried him back out.

„Alina is coming soon. Come, we're going to get her."

Antoinette sat on a bench far away from the crowd waiting for the ferry from Portsmouth to arrive, as Erik stood in the shadows leaning on the wall behind her. A crowd of people poured out, Alina among the last, tripping while carrying a very large travel bag. She wore a thick black coat and a Russian-style fur hat, with her hair underneath braided in one long side-braid. Antoinette waved at her and she hurried toward the bench, as Erik sadly left his comfortable spot to join them. _It would be sort of inconvenient if I just jumped out of the shadows right next to her._

Antoinette remarked, "You're very bad at travelling light, Alina."

"Don't I know it", she puffed. "I've been hauling this stupid bag since London."

"What do you even have in here?"

"Important things. Books and warm clothes. Pencils and paper. I really cut it down, you know. But I can't leave these behind."

Antoinette lightly nudged at Erik, "Perhaps you should let Erik help you. He won't mind."

She got annoyed glares from both of them in return.

"I can carry my own thi-"

"Quiet, dear. It's not a strength competition. Be reasonable."

Alina sighed, looking at Erik, who shrugged indifferently. "As you like."

She offered him the handle of her bag. "If it's not a problem. Thank you. My arms actually hurt."

 _It really is heavy_ , he thought as he took it. _Did she really drag it all the way from London?_ Silence felt strange as they walked back to the room, so Antoinette started a conversation, having little faith in the social skills of her two young friends.

„Which books?"

„Pardon me?"

„What kind of books did you bring, Alina?"

„Oh, fiction. To pass the time on the ship. I brought Austen, Twain, Wilde. Poe. That kind of thing. Ones you can re-read without being bored."

„I do remember you liked Jane Austen."

„I blame her for giving me a romanticized view of England when I was a girl. I should have been reading Dickens instead, perhaps I would have made better life choices."

Antoinette laughed. „You should read Les Miserables. To make you less sad about leaving."

„Oh, I have. I found an English translation. It's here as well, just in case we get homesick."

„I wish you brought fewer books right now", Erik added behind them.

„Oh, sorry. But they're for you too. Reading is a good way to learn a language. Especially since you have me here to translate things if needed."

„I can read it. Speaking is a problem."

„Oh. Well I can help with that as well."

„Are you certain I'll have time to speak next to you?"

She turned to give him an offended look while Antoinette laughed again next to her.

As they entered the small room, Alina looked around nervously. She took off her furry hat, revealing frizzy hair beneath it. She tried, to no avail, fixing it with her hands before giving up.

„I, uh, can we make some tea? I'm cold."

„Of course", Antoinette said, „Take off your coats, I'll heat up some water." Erik decided this was a good time to excuse himself and go do something else. There was suddenly three of them, and it was making him uncomfortable – he started wondering if he could lock himself in the bathroom and sleep on the floor, in lack of a better option. But before he could say anything, Alina spoke again.

„I, uh, actually have an announcement. Yesterday was my birthday and I made some cakes and I was hoping we could have them with tea I mean if you both want but I haven't celebrated it at all this year and I made these myself because I thought I'd treat you - " she turned red. „I mean, yes, there's cake. And sugar cookies. For everyone. That is all. That was the announcement."

„It's your birthday! Happy birthday!" Antoinette exclaimed. „Of course we'll celebrate!"

„Happy birthday", Erik added, wondering if this meant he couldn't leave yet.

„Thank you both."

„How old are you now? Twenty-five?", Antoinette asked.

„Yes", she nodded. „It sounds so strange, I know. I thought I'd be more mature by now."

„You look younger", Erik offered, trying to be civil. She did look younger than she was; especially when she was blushing like that.

„Perhaps I'm already at an age where that's a good thing. How old are you, anyway, if I may ask?" She looked at him.

„You may, but I don't know. Less than thirty. Twenty-seven, perhaps." He could see she was curious, but she didn't ask any further, afraid she would offend him. _Wise choice. It's a box she doesn't want to open_. She gave him a small shrug.

„Perhaps it's better not to know. That way you can stay around twenty-seven for a decade."

He started smiling before he noticed it, and decided that maybe he _could_ have some tea.

Alina decided she could maybe get along with Erik. She couldn't at all figure out what he was like as a person, but it seemed to her like he wouldn't be boring, at least.

The ship would leave the next morning at dawn. Alina slept on the bed taking turns with Antoinette; both of them got only a few hours of sleep anyway. They passed the time playing cards and talking; Erik couldn't sleep at all and instead sat next to the window. This was the last night he would spend in France, and he could not wait to put the entire Atlantic ocean between himself and this land.

Except whenever he looked at Antoinette, he felt a familiar tug of sadness. He needed to tell her some things. She deserved to hear them. He tried writing them down, but it all sounded ridiculous to him; he would have to improvise.

They got up well before dawn so that they could get on the ship while it's still dark. They were not the only ones; aside from being a cargo ship, this one also took passengers with low enough standards who wished to get to New York cheaply. A dozen or so people, aside from the sailor crew, seemed to be traveling with them.

„Oh, I almost forgot. I've told them you're brother and sister", Antoinette said. „It'll make them less suspicious. You also get a little space under the deck to sleep. Not very proper, and not very luxurious, but you'll get some privacy. The entire ship is quite improper and crammed. This is the best I can do."

„That is more than I was hoping for", Alina said. „The ship is rather small, but it looks safe."

Antoinette stayed for a moment to say her goodbyes; Alina pulled a letter out of her pocket.

„Can you please send this for me? It's for my mother. I'd rather she gets it after I've already sailed."

„Of course."

„And, _teta_ Giry, thank you for everything." She walked up to her and embraced her. „I will miss you terribly. I'll write you a letter every week, so many letters you'll grow sick of them."

„Be sure to write at least once. I'd like to know you're safe."

She nodded, looking at Erik and then at Antoinette again.

„I'll, uh, go on to leave my things and find that room. I'll wait for you there", she said and hurried to climb onto the ship.

They were alone now.

Erik's mind was blank as he turned to her and opened his mouth. Antoinette looked at him with a smile.

„It's alright, my boy."

„No, I want to tell you-" he started to panic quietly.

„It really is alright. I know."

„NO! I want to say this!" three people turned to look at them and he remembered to lower his voice. „I want to say it before we leave, because I won't be returning", he took a deep breath. „Antoinette, you deserve to be made into a saint. I owe you everything. You have been- " _Why is it suddenly harder to speak?_ „ – you have been like a mother to me. It's because of you that I'm alive, and it's because of you that I have come to somewhat resemble a human being. I'll never forget it. I'll never be able to repay you for this, and I'll spend my life trying to earn it."

She embraced him for a moment. „I love you too, my dear." Erik could do nothing but stare at the floor.

„You need to go now", she said, letting go. Erik nodded, turning towards the ship.

„And, Erik?"

„Yes?"

„Take care of Alina for me, will you? She's not as tough as she likes to think."

He nodded once again. „Alright."

Alina was already standing on the deck, pretending to look in a completely opposite direction.

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Alina somehow adapted to the life on the ship, but Erik couldn't sleep for the entire first week. He would sometimes drift off, but couldn't get a full night – everything around him had him on edge. This wouldn't have been a huge problem, but he couldn't really walk either, because the ship swayed so much it made him sick. He stayed in the tiny cabin, reading and drawing by candlelight and sometimes humming strange tunes Alina had never heard before. She would bring him food, as he seemed absolutely against the prospect of going to eat meals with everyone else; but he was still mostly sick and rarely accapted it. He seemed to her downright miserable. _I feel like I'm intruding just by being on the same vessel_ , Alina thought. She was not entirely sure how to start conversations with Erik, because he looked like he would much rather be left alone; but something in her made it very hard to leave someone alone who looked so miserable. She talked very little at first, and would drop the subject if he kept quiet. Erik made no real effort to strike a conversation with her, distracted and withdrawn, but it seemed that every now and then something she said would spark interest in him and he'd say a few sentences before drifting away again.

„Do you like Poe?" Alina asked one day, sitting on the floor a few feet away from him, taking out an orange she brought with her from the land and some half-dry bread and cheese. He was nearly finished with Poe, and she couldn't wait for him to finish each new book so they would have something to talk about – seeing as he was so adamant not to discuss anything from his own life, and never asked her anything about hers.

„I do."

„What's your favorite story so far?" she asked, peeling the orange.

„The one where the rich nobles all died of the plague1", he said truthfully.

Alina looked at him silently for a moment before letting out a surprised laugh. „That's... that's one way to put it, yes. Hah. My English teacher would have loved you." She snickered a bit more, and Erik felt himself relax slightly.

„Maybe you'll read _Pride and prejudice_ next?" she asked when he didn't elaborate further. She was dying to hear what he'd have to say about that one.

„No." He wouldn't - he read it years ago in French, but she didn't need to know that.

„You should. It's quite good." Alina split the orange and offered him a half, „These grow in my homeland. They're very sweet."

He shook his head at her, refusing. Someone else might have felt inclined to ask where that homeland was, he realized a little too late.

„I strongly suggest you to eat something", Alina smiled, eating the other half. „I wouldn't want you to die of starvation before we arrive. Or, you know, scurvy. Hence the oranges."

„I don't actually like eating", he managed through his teeth, looking at his book in an attempt not to seem too annoyed. „Especially not in front of others."

She blinked. „Well, what a coincidence", she said, wiping her hands and getting up. „I was actually just heading for a short walk, so you can have all the privacy you'd like. I'll be back soon."

She passed him, leaving quickly through the door. The room seemed somehow colder suddenly.

Erik stared stubbornly at one half of an orange and the sandwiches she left suspiciously close to him, before sighing and taking some.

 _She wasn't lying,_ he thought. _They really are very sweet._

The sea was not being very kind to them. Alina had been on her fair share of ships by now, so it bothered her less. On the worst days she would just stay in bed and not even try to do anything. On the better days, like this one, she tried to get out and read or stare at the sea – to at least get some fresh air and stretch her legs. She sat on her favorite spot on the deck and looked at the waves. The sea seemed to her very scary and captivating. It made her feel very small and very alone.

A few days later, and after a few failed attempts to talk him into reading _Pride and Prejudice,_ Alina decided to give Erik her precious, treasured copy of _The Adventures of Tom Sawyer._ It was smart, and funny, and deep, and all-around the most beautiful book Alina possessed. She'd had it for several years now and it was worn with repeated reading. She could tell that he loved it. He read it twice from cover to cover before returning it.

„Did you like it?"

„I did. There's something special about it." He thought about it some more. „It's... I don't know, one just feels glad to be alive, reading it."

„I agree." She gave him the widest, most genuine smile he'd ever seen on her. He wondered for a second if he could maybe make her do that again.

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„What's the strangest feeling you've ever felt?" Alina asked one very stormy day. The ship was swaying too much for them to climb on the bunkbeds so they lay on the floor hoping for a swift death.

He didn't answer.

„Are you so ill you can't talk or do you just refuse to answer the question?"

„No, I can talk."

„Fair enough. But I'll answer it myself because I'm bored and scared of this storm and I like the sound of my own voice."

„Certainly."

She took her time to think about it. She had no idea what the strangest feeling she'd ever felt was. All of her feelings were befuddling to her. But she wanted to offer something to make the situation seem more like a trip and less like a dungeon.

„I, uh, alright. So some time ago, I realized I was soon to be one quarter of a century old. And I always had this idea how, how my life would look when I turned 25. It's a nice, round year, like a milestone. And I realized that my life looked nothing like what I had imagined. And that my parents, my friends, almost everyone thinks I'm incredibly strange. Even though they all have conflicting views on what „strange" and „normal" means, they probably all agree I'm strange. So I got drunk off of rum."

He turned his head to her. „That's it?"

„No, no. When I got drunk, I realized I wasn't actually sad about being a disappointment anymore. I mean, I felt this sadness because I had given up on pleasing them, but only because I thought I _should_ feel it, like an anchor in life. I was actually happy that I'm living a very strange life, because it's my own and I feel more free than before. All of my mistakes are my own, and I'm not constrained by expectations like I've been most of my life. And I don't even believe in their conceptions of strange and normal anymore, nor do I care. I'll die alone with seventeen cats and having raised a hundred thousand orphans. I don't care. Everyone should live their lives as they please, as long as they're not harming anybody.

That's it. It's a strangely comforting feeling."

She couldn't tell what he was thinking through the damned mask.

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Erik started sleeping around that time. It was not a great improvement. He would wake up often, looking shaken and disoriented, and then couldn't go back to sleep. Sometimes he would gasp for air or kick in his sleep. Alina remembered she saw this once before, back when she worked in the hospital, with some man who lost his legs in a war. She decided to say nothing to him and pretend it didn't wake her up. He deserved his privacy.

Up until one time when it really did wake her up quite obviously. He jolted awake with a full-blown scream; breathing heavily, he stared into the ceiling completely bewildered with his hands over his always-masked face. The sound startled Alina and she sat up, groggy and confused.

She turned to the bottom bunk bed where he slept and said,

„Hey, are you alright? It was just a dream."

It took him a second to focus on her through the gaps between his fingers. He looked terrified. Alina realized she'd never seen him scared before; in fact she realized she couldn't even imagine it until now. _What the hell could he be dreaming that scares him so much?_

„Hey", she said, reaching down to lightly tap his shoulder with her fingers. „Wake up."

He finally snapped out of it, wincing and slapping her hand off of him.

„Let me go!"

„Alright."

„And stop staring at me!"

„I'm not - "

„Damn it, woman! You think I can't tell by now when someone's staring at me?"

 _Fair enough,_ she realized, _I should have left him alone_. But she was getting angry now, and was not awake enough yet to put a filter on her mouth.

„What is your problem? I'm just asking if you're alright!"

„I don't need your precious sympathy nor your pompous self-righteousness! Leave me the hell alone!"

 _That,_ Alina felt, was uncalled for. She slid off the bed and got her coat, deciding it was time to get out of there.

„You think _I_ can't tell by now when someone's yelling at me for no good reason? I'll leave you alone if you want, but there's not need to treat me like garbage when I try to help! Bigger and scarier men than you have screamed worse things at me, and I've just about had enough! Have a nice night with the whole room to yourself!"

She slammed the door behind her, starting to cry as soon as she got outside, fully aware why she was upset and why it only partially had to do with him. _I did not handle this well._

They avoided each other for the next couple of days.

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The youngest of the sailors, called Desmond, spoke with a thick Liverpool accent, and Alina would eat her hat if he was a day over seventeen. She stayed away from the other ones, because she didn't trust them or the looks they gave her when she was alone. But Desmond didn't ogle, in fact he liked to whistle to himself while he worked and one day he whistled next to Alina as she sat on a bench and ate the last of the dry cookies left over from her birthday. She asked him if he wanted some. She was bored and craved company, but whenever she wanted to talk to Erik she would remember his angry eyes and bitter words, so she decided against it.

„Yeah I want cookies. Who doesn't?"

A sweet young fellow, all blonde hair and freckles and laughter.

„So sit. There's plenty for both."

They talked about life for some time. Apparently, Desmond had a girl, or rather, used to have one. It seemed like she hadn't spoken to him in a while. Alina thought he looked sad about it in a very pure, innocent way, although he laughed it off.

„I'm in a bit of a pickle myself."

„Trouble with your brother?"

„My... oh. Yeah. We had an argument."

„What happened?"

„He's been jumpy since he came home from war", she lied without missing a beat.

„Seems like that kinda fellow."

„Yeah. I'm jumpy myself, though. He yelled at me and I didn't take it well."

„That's a bad combination."

„I know."

He thought about it for a bit.

„My pop's the same. Been jumpy for years since he came home from one too many sea storms."

„I'm sorry."

„No, I mean, my point is, mum almost left him, drove her crazy, yeah? She says something, he starts to yell, she starts to yell, everything goes to shit. They both hate each other later. Pop hates himself, too."

„You think that'll happen to us too?" Alina asked, growing upset.

„No, no, listen. One day pop says, Mary listen, I admit I'm a bit of an arse, alright? But sometimes I lose myself. And these fights aren't normal fights. You know I never lost myself before.

And she says, well what do you want me to do? And he says, just don't scream because it messes with me alright? And she says but you scream first, and he says, yea but if you don't scream back and startle me Mary, I promise I'll gather myself and stop. And so they try that."

„Does it work?"

„Yeah it works. Because they love each other something terrible and they both try and be patient. And they don't let each other hate themselves. Wouldn't work if they weren't both like that."

Alina bit her lip, feeling guilty again. „But what if your dad didn't back down? Just kept yelling after she gave in?"

„Well, then it wouldn't be the same thing, yeah? Then he'd be an arsehole. Some people are like that, the better you treat them, the worse they get. But not my pop. If he was like that, I'd tell her to leave him myself."

Truth be told, she couldn't really leave for a few more weeks.

„Your brother doesn't seem like the arsehole kind. But I dunno."

„So you think I should go talk to him?" she raised her eyebrows.

„Not a chance. I think you should stay here first and help me with my girl troubles."

 _I adore this kid,_ Alina decided.

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Erik noticed Alina avoiding him for the next couple of days. It made him angry at first; he couldn't believe she'd humiliate him like that and then just draw into herself – no, he actually could, because everything about this situation felt familiar somehow.

After the initial wave of anger passed he tried to think about it clearly. He had to do something about this. He couldn't keep going in the same circles all his life. He tried to think about it objectively.

 _I can't think about it objectively. If I try, I just hate myself._

 _This woman doesn't know me. She has no idea who she's dealing with._

 _Maybe she really was just trying to help._

 _Maybe. But does she have to be so nosy and reckless?_

 _And I am so controlled and dependable?_

 _I don't go around poking in her own business!_

 _Because I don't give a damn what happens to anybody but myself._

 _But she apparently does. When was the last time I gave a damn about anybody but myself? How did that feel? Exposed? Vulnerable? Like tapping in the dark, not knowing what I'm doing?_

 _That was different. She doesn't care personally. She just has a deal with Antoinette._

 _Then why is she acting like this? She just has to make sure I get there alive. Everything else she does is because..._

 _Because of what, actually? What would I think if this were about someone else?_

 _That she's trying to be my friend?_

 _Ridiculous._

 _...is it?_

 _Besides, she insulted me too._

 _I insulted her first. She was clearly hurt. She's not that good of an actress._

 _That's not yet certain._

He remembered Antoinette's parting words. Cursing under his breath, he went looking for her.

He found her talking to the young sailor boy, the one with the pretty face that couldn't whistle in tune to save his soul.

That was new. They were talking, occasionally bursting into cheerful laughter.

„No, no, no! See, when she says she doesn't care, but she's all angry like that, she clearly cares! You don't go telling her something like that! You tell her that you DO love her instead!" Alina waved one of her hands in the air while leaning her face on the other, half-frustrated and half-amused.

„But you can't keep a lass if you're so clingy!" Desmond replied, pointing his finger at her.

„Not clingy, no! But you can't keep a lass if you're so distant and unemotional, either! You have to be on equal ground, not with one of you always one foot out the door! She'll just find someone else if she thinks you don't like her enough, at least if she respects herself in the slightest!"

„If you're so smart, why don't you write her a letter instead of me? With those fancy words?" He started to laugh.

„Do you want me to? I bet I'd write her such an amazing letter she'd marry you right away!" She leaned toward him, laughing as well. „I bet I can woo your lady, Desmond!"

„Woo, maybe, but you still don't have one thing I have that she likes-"

They were both roaring with laughter now. The scene was actually adorable, Erik had to admit. He felt like he was seeing something he was not supposed to see.

But then she looked up and noticed him, her face getting serious again. Desmond saved him, the clever little shit.

„Oy, tall man, big brother, I need your advice too! How does one woo a lass? Your sister here has some outrageous ideas!"

„I agree with Desmond. You're talking nonsense."

„Yeah, it's two against one! The people have spoken!" Desmond spread out his arms.

„Lass-wooing is a science, you idiots, not a democracy!" She started laughing again.

Desmond winked at Erik, and he started to smile against his will as well. This was ridiculous.

„Well, if you'll excuse me now, ladies and gentlemen. The captain will have my head if I don't go to work right this instant", he gave them a mock salute and promptly left.

 _I'm starting to like this kid,_ Erik decided.

Alina was still giggling when he sat next to her.

„I've been meaning to talk to you", he started slowly, looking ahead of him.

„Same", she admitted.

„Ladies first?" he offered.

„Do you take me for an idiot?"

Erik knew a rhetorical question when he heard one.

„Very well. I shouted at you, but you were just trying to help", he offered slowly.

„That you did. But I was irrational too, I think. I shouldn't have said those things. I'm sorry", she said all in one quick breath. She seemed honest.

„Me too", he nodded.

„We both hate when people shout at us, don't we?" she said. „And we hate being caught off guard. Let's just agree not to do that from now on. Just, to be more careful."

„I agree."

Erik could swear he could _feel_ Desmond winking again somewhere.

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Desmond finds it fun to pretend he is shallow and silly, but he is neither of those things, not in the slightest.

These people were not siblings, clear as day. Desmond had two brothers and two sisters and he knew how siblings were supposed to act; this was something different entirely. He didn't really care at first what they were; the rest of the crew believed them and he's generally very good at minding his own business, which was how he'd survived on this ship so far as the youngest one among occasionally very nervous sailors.

The lady, Alena or whatever, was nice. Desmond liked the way she talked without that stuck-up attitude he despised about other old people. She listened to his girl problems (which bothered him much more than he'd like to admit to himself) and joked with him, and that was enough for him to call her a friend. The tall man with the mask didn't move like he'd been in a war; he moved like an escaped slave and it bothered Desmond that he couldn't tell much about him. He was one frightening fellow. Desmond winked at him a few times, though, and the man smiled at him. Good enough. He winked at Miss Alina once too, for good measure. Just to see the masked man twitch. He didn't disappoint.

He couldn't tell what they were because they kept tiptoeing around each other like strangers, but the way they spent afternoons together discussing some books or whatever else they discussed made him think they did have some past together. They would be a fun puzzle, at least, and four weeks on the sea can be hard to survive without something to occupy him.

But he had more pressing things to do, such as writing that problematic letter which Miss Alina had offered to help him with. He tried to do it on his own first, but the words wouldn't come out; even though she made it sound so simple. He swallowed his pride and sought her out again in their little cabin in the lower deck.

"Of course I'll help you with it! I'm coming right away!" she said as she left the room. She didn't mock him this time, and instead spent an entire afternoon composing the stupid letter with him until every word is carefully chosen and placed. She might actually be right about Vanessa marrying him immediately after she reads it. If he were her, he'd have married himself already, although that'd be impossible because neither of Desmonds in that scenario would want to propose first.

The trip was approaching its long-awaited end when Desmond heard something that made him get out of his position of a comfortable observer.

He heard other sailors say how they had to stop at Ellis Island so that the police could search the cargo and passengers. _Already?_ He thought they had more time. _Are we ahead of schedule for once?_

"Your little lady friend doesn't have to worry, Desmond, they're sure to let her in", one of the other sailors told him. "But I'm not so sure about that eerie masked fellow hiding in the lower deck."

There was only one eerie masked fellow on the ship and Desmond had already started seeing him and his lady friend as his personal pets. He didn't want them to get separated and sent away; and he'd much prefer if she wasn't crying all alone in a foreign land the last time he saw her.

That's alright. He was much better at conspiracies and mischief than writing love letters.

He went to seek her out again, and found her outside this time, staring at the sea as she often did. _People get so wonky on these trips_. She was not nearly the first one that he's found doing that.

"Your brother, why does he wear that mask?" He asked quietly, sitting next to her.

She looked at him in pure horror, opened her mouth and closed it again.

"It's alright; I know he's not your brother. But we're stopping at Ellis Island tomorrow. They'll sort you all out, but they send back people they don't like. Criminals, sick people, disabled, disfigured. That kind of thing."

 _Is she going to cry now_ , he wondered and continued.

"I like you lot, and you have yourself helped me a great deal, so I'll try to help you. I can get you past Ellis Island on a lifeboat tonight. But I can't guarantee where we'll end up exactly, and you have to do exactly as I say, or you'll get caught and I'll be dead meat. Can you do that?"

She nodded. "We can."

"Great. I'll tell you the plan now, and we have to do it when that old man Tim gets the night watch, because he always falls asleep at the same time. Tell your brother. Pack up before, but try to do it so it's not suspicious."

She went to tell the masked man, but they couldn't find him, and even though she went mad with worry, they wouldn't find him until the nightfall.

And after nightfall, they found the absolute madman trying to jump over the ship fence with nothing but an old life-belt to better his chances. In Atlantic. In the middle of February.

Alina panicked; she couldn't react in time. But Desmond was a sailor, he was strong and fast and afraid of next to nothing so he ran and grabbed the man around his chest from behind, unceremoniously throwing him onto the ship again.

The fellow got back up remarkably fast, Desmond noticed. There was murder in his eyes when he looked at Desmond, and Desmond thought there might be some things left in this world he was, in fact, afraid of.

"Sorry! Sorry! Didn't mean to do that! I just didn't want you to die! Even if you survive the fall, the sea is freezing!" Desmond explained, panicking.

What followed was one of the strangest conversations he had ever witnessed.

The masked man turned to Alina.

"We had a deal! You promised!" He hissed, pointing a finger at her.

"I was trying to fulfill that promise just before I found you breaking yours!" She was whispering frantically, waving her hands in obvious distress.

"The ship is going to get searched tomorrow, and do you know what they're going to find? Can you guess who's not going to pass their inspection? It's alright that you've found a way to take care of yourself, but I'll do it too, and you can't stop me! I meant what I said!" This was the most Desmond had ever heard him speak. He looked really upset.

"I was trying to-" she started, but Desmond knew how to talk to people like him and so he interrupted, talking as calmly as possible, with his hands up in a very peaceful gesture.

"We've made a plan for you to escape. Both of you. Your sister doesn't have to, but she's decided to follow you anyway. We wanted to tell you all day, but you disappeared."

The fellow looked at her like he was absolutely shocked when Desmond said she was going with him willingly. Alina still looked hurt and afraid. Brother and sister. Right.

"Well, hurry already! Get your things, we have a boat to borrow before they catch us!"

END OF CHAPTER 2

1 _The_ _Mask of the Red Death_ by Edgar Allan Poe, published 1842.


	3. Burials

3\. Burials

As they finally reached the shore, Alina turned around toward the young sailor boy and smiled at him with genuine gratitude. For a moment, Erik thought she looked like a little girl again.

„Thank you, Desmond. I will never forget this. You deserve all the happiness in the world."

The boy fumbled for a moment, blushing. Something about the scene gave Erik a bitter taste in his mouth. A memory floated to the surface, one he refused to think about, and he pushed it back down immediately.

Desmond threw the two bags toward them. „You need to hurry before you get caught. I'd be pissed if you wasted this chance, now that I've paddled your arses all the way here."

She was still laughing as they jumped to the shore, holding their bags and slipping on the wet sand. It shocked Erik to find out that the earth doesn't sway like the ship deck. It was incredibly strange to feel firm soil beneath his feet again; they both stumbled for a bit before finding balance again. Alina turned around to wave at the boy rowing back and Erik lifted his head to look at their surroundings.

The beach was very still and very, very quiet. The ground around them was covered in pristine, white snow, and the night sky above them was specked with clouds and stars. Further down there was a village, illuminated by moonlight and dim street lamps. He could barely make out muffled voices in the distance. For all it was worth, it was a beautiful scene.

Alina seemed to notice that as well, as she silently stood next to Erik. The wind was blowing flyaway strands of hair around her now pale and frostbitten face.

„You know", she said quietly, „it's just occurred to me that I've never in fact been this far from home. We're completely alone here."

„You can go back, if you wish." _She's not exactly stuck here, unlike me. And I'm definitely not forcing her to stay._

She gave him one of the sideways glares she liked to throw at him occasionally.

„Wasn't planning to."

„Your choice", he shrugged.

„My point was, Erik, that we know absolutely no one here save for each other. And now that we're here alive and free, you can obviously see I do keep my promises. If we are to survive this crusty godforsaken dump of an island we'd be better off trusting each other at least a little and not running off randomly at the first sign of trouble, I think."

„Island?"

„Yes, well, according to what I know, this is Coney Island. Welcome to America."

„Hm." She was right, of course, he thought. She had done everything as she'd promised. Something prevented him from admitting it out loud. He hadn't yet decided if she was just much more manipulative than he had anticipated. Even if she wasn't, agreeing to trust her felt somewhat like… _(defeat? compliance to a master? that's ridiculous)_ , and was not about to grant her that kind of power.

Thankfully, she rolled her eyes and let the matter go.

„Let's find someplace warm. There's nothing to do here."

They started walking slowly, carefully towards the lights. The snow creaked beneath their boots, breaking the otherwise deafening silence. Alina looked ahead of her with a frown on her face, her shoulders slouching beneath her heavy bag.

For whatever reason, Erik suddenly changed his mind in that moment. Reaching out, he took the bag from her and put it on his own back; she gave him a confused look but allowed it anyway.

„You did keep your promise. Thank you", he said looking ahead of him.

The confused look spread slowly into a smile as they continued walking in silence.

ooo

Her idea of "someplace warm" seemed to be the small campfire with people huddled around it. _They look just as lost as we are,_ Erik thought. They were refugees, he realized. Outcasts. He assumed they also arrived by unconventional means, judging by the worried faces, the old, dirty clothes and the amount of visibly sick people.

"Absolutely not." He stopped, still on the safe distance from the light of the fire.

She stopped as well and turned to him. "Why?"

"I hate fire. And people."

"Yes, me too. But are you familiar with the phrase _dying of exposure to the elements_?" she spread out her arms in frustration.

"No."

"It's a fancy way of saying Mother Nature kicked you in the head, and you died."

"Ah."

"Seems even less appealing."

He thought about it. This was actually a smart choice of shelter. While they did have some means to survive, and could probably manage one night in a cheap room somewhere less crowded, they were probably least likely to be kicked out by other people who also shouldn't be there. He could _maybe_ survive out in the cold for now, but he wasn't so sure about her. She squinted at him expectantly, probably guessing what he was thinking about.

 _I suppose she's right. I'll have to endure it._ He put the hood of his cloak over his head, as if that was going to make a goddamn difference.

"Alright."

She walked towards the crowd with feigned confidence and stepped into the circle of light illuminated by the fire. Everyone gawked at them, and Erik started panicking silently.

Alina bowed her head slightly and gave them a shy smile.

"Can we sit with you?"

They just kept staring. Someone said something in a language Erik couldn't understand, and he braced himself to start running, but her eyes suddenly widened and she replied in a similar manner.

" _Dobro veče. Smijemo sjesti s vama?_ "

They relaxed visibly. Erik didn't. One of the men gestured for them to sit down and join them.

Alina looked around and picked a place on the ground, next to a very young, very tired looking woman with a child that looked to be about two years old. Their hair was the same pale blonde color. Erik sat quietly to Alina's left.

The boy stopped his quiet whining to stare at them. Alina grimaced at him, and he opened his mouth in shock for a moment before starting to giggle.

 _Children make no sense to me sometimes,_ Erik thought to himself.

The mother started talking to Alina in that same language Erik didn't understand. Alina didn't fully understand it either, as their conversation was speckled with nervous laughter, a lot of gesturing and head-scratching. But they seemed to understand each other well enough. These people were probably Russian, Erik realized. But Alina wasn't.

What did she tell them?

And why did all these people seem to understand each other? What was this pack mentality that they all had? If this was a huddle of Frenchmen, Erik was quite sure they would not have been so welcoming just because he spoke to them in something resembling French.

In any case, for the moment the danger had passed.

As Alina talked to the young Russian girl, Erik noticed his hands were still shaking, which he'd rather not let them see. The people around them were still throwing sideways glances at him when they thought he wouldn't notice. He needed something to occupy himself with.

He grabbed a small flat piece of wood, slowly took out his pocket knife, and started carving. They were on edge when they saw the knife, but no one said anything. Alina didn't notice, as she was busy talking to the traumatized-looking girl.

Alina smiled politely at the girl and asked her,

 _"Krasan dječak. Vaš sin?"_

Yana didn't understand why the woman would tell her that her son is "red" so she chalked it up to translation errors. She meant 'lovely'. Oh. Yana didn't trust noblewomen, but she found herself talking to that strange woman who addressed her with the formal "you" for some reason. She hadn't had anyone to talk to in ages, she realized; seeing as she was naturally quiet and withdrawn people usually talked _at_ her and didn't really ask her that many questions. This woman seemed interested with her eyes smiling with kindness. So she told her about herself.

ooo

Her whole life, Yana had been a good girl. She was born into a large family in a small village in Russia, a small, meek girl with pale eyes and even paler hair. When she was a little girl, the other villagers called her "rusalka", water nymph. The small secluded village had kept their own traditions and folklore and so the name came without the negative connotations; she thought it was rather fitting. She had always felt a kind of melancholy in her heart that made it easy for her to believe she had a soul of some unfortunate dead woman inside her. She was also, fittingly, very reluctant to leave the comfort of her own habitat. She was the smallest, quietest girl and she spent most of her time helping her mother. Other children played in the fields and took care of the animals, but her mother kept her close, claiming she was a gentle soul, afraid to let her come to any harm. It was painful for her to remember her mother these days.

When Yana grew up, she noticed village boys throwing glances at her. Maybe they were just curious, seeing as she was somewhat strange.

Her mother sat her down one day.

"Yana, you've become beautiful."

She tried to brush it off. These things didn't interest her.

"But they will interest you. And I think it's time I tell you this. You are a beautiful girl, and the boys will start flocking to you. You are kind, and patient, and very skilled at cooking. You would make a good wife."

Did her mother want her to get married?

"Not yet. I am telling you this for the future. The boys will tell you nice things, and they will want some things from you. I'm telling you this so you would know: be smart, and patient, as you always have been. Keep your heart locked until you find a boy who deserves it. When you find a boy you can talk to the same way you talk to me, then you can unlock it."

That seemed unreasonable. The sooner she got married, the sooner her parents would have one less mouth to feed.

"Forget about that. You are not hard to feed. Do as I said."

So she did.

One day a new boy, Mikita, came to the village. With green eyes and dark hair, and long, gentle fingers. He was a musician, and the only thing of value he had was an old violin. He played it like it was an extension of his own heart, and something about him made Yana want to tell him all of her secrets. He played it under her window for many nights, quietly, until Yana's mother promptly shooed him off with a broom.

It was too late. Yana had already decided.

They got married properly, and even though her father looked concerned, her mother was smiling happily. Yana silently thanked her for her advice.

The boy kept smiling and playing the violin as they built a small house at the end of the village. He was gentle. He was kind. They both didn't talk much, but Yana didn't think that was a problem, as her childhood friends talked a great deal with their husbands but managed to say very little.

They were very happy for a time; Yana found out she was pregnant and several months later gave birth to a baby boy, healthy, with the same pale hair and sad eyes as hers. She called him Piotr, after her father. They now had more mouths to feed, so Mikita found honest work with the local noble, but still played violin every evening for her.

Yana paused. She didn't want to tell this part of the story, but the woman kept smiling and nodding at her with sympathetic eyes, asking questions about her husband and about Russia, and Yana really didn't want to give her the wrong idea and have to explain the whole story later in the future.

Piotr was still a baby when Mikita died. The sickness took away his lungs and then his life. The noble he worked for didn't pay for a doctor, but he paid for the funeral.

Yana buried him along with a part of her heart in the small cemetery behind the church; deciding to remember him as the boy with sparkling eyes and a violin, rather than the pale sweating shell he was by the end. As she went home, the house is suddenly silent, too silent, unbearably silent. She felt like she could explode. How was she going to live now? Mikita didn't leave much behind. She couldn't go back to her parents; they had too much on their mind and not enough on their plates. Everywhere she looked, all she could see was his face.

For the first time in her life Yana decided not to be a good timid girl.

So she sold her house and everything she owned except for one bag of clothes and Mikita's old violin, and decided to travel somewhere with Piotr where she would have enough to eat and where young strong men didn't die routinely of diseases they contracted doing nothing particularly dangerous.

The trip was hard. She'd rather not remember it. But she's always been good at hiding and so she evaded whatever unnecessary hardships she could. She glossed over that part, and Alina didn't insist on any details, thankfully.

The conversation was turning more serious, Erik thought, judging by the looks on their faces. Alina spoke less and less, and mostly nodded. Erik still couldn't understand anything, so he turned his attention to the piece of wood in his hands and after some time, it started to resemble a shape.

Yana had no money when she arrived and no papers, but the man on Ellis Island with a kind smile looked at her pretty face and happy boy and decided to let her in. He told her she reminded him of his daughter. So she settled in a Russian immigrant village on Coney Island, rather than going to the city itself. She preferred it that way. These people looked and sounded more familiar, and appreciated her cooking.

They were telling stories by the fire to keep their minds off of winter, when the strange pair joined them. The woman was polite, and talked in a language that isn't complete nonsense; so they let them join. Yana decided not to ask them too much about them for now, and kept her own conclusions for herself.

The woman was dressed simple and smiling shyly, but she didn't fool Yana for one second. The way she kept her spine straight and her feet slightly apart gave away that she was used to having enough to eat and people who listened when she talked. The man behind her was a different story entirely. He wore a white mask and stood stiff as a board, and the men were unnerved when they saw him. Yana feared him, because he looked like a criminal. But she could see in his eyes the same fear she saw when she looked at her own reflection in the ship windows.

Yana noticed the strange man was slightly shaking the whole time; she felt bad for him. In an attempt to hide it, he took a piece of wood lying around the fire and starts carving into it. She noticed his leather-covered hands looked surprisingly gentle, with long fingers that reminded her of Mikita.

They grew silent around the time Erik finished carving.

It's a very simple, but still recognizable figurine of a horse. Not exactly three-dimensional, but Erik wasn't aiming for artistry anyway. Piotr was staring at it with interest.

Erik extended his hand and offered the bear to him. Yana clutched him more tightly, but Piotr, who had always been the complete opposite of his mother when it comes to shyness reached out and grabbed it anyway, laughing with excitement.

Yana smiled and wanted to thank him as well, but the man didn't look at her. Instead, he cast a quick, barely noticeable glance towards the woman he came with. He was waiting to see her reaction, but didn't want her to know that.

Alina looked at him as if he just grew a halo and a pair of wings right before her eyes.

 _I could get used to that_ , he thought.

Something clicked in Yana's mind and she decided to remember it for later.

ooo

As the night went on, the other villagers left the campfire to go to sleep – Erik noticed they did, in fact, have roofs over their heads; tiny cottages and houses that sometimes held more people than he thought reasonable. The two of them had no place to sleep, so Alina asked the young woman what they could do and she got up, walked over and started talking to one of the men quietly. He frowned, looked at them with suspicion, but the woman stared at him quietly and stubbornly, repeating the same few sentences. He shrugged and waved his hand, giving her the international „do whatever you want" gesture, and she walked back over to them. She tried to explain to Alina what he said, but it took her a while. Erik felt exhausted, overwhelmed, and altogether eager to get out of there, when Alina thanked the woman and turned to him.

„There is a cottage next to hers that nobody lives in. If we can fix it, they say we can stay there. For tonight, they'll give us some blankets and we can sleep in her kitchen. That man said he would come by in the morning to check if everything was fine." Yana actually asked him to come by and check for her own sake more than theirs, but they didn't need to know that.

„Oh." This was a pleasant surprise for Erik. „Good."

„Do you know how to fix a roof and re-build a house?" she raised her eyebrows.

„Yes, of course I do", he shrugged. It wasn't his first time. „Is that what she was saying to that man? She talked him into giving us a house?"

„From what I've gathered, yes", Alina nodded.

„How do I say _thank you_ in Russian?" he asked. Alina turned to the woman automatically, opening her mouth, but he tapped her shoulder lightly with his finger to stop her. „Wait."

„Yes?" she turned back.

„Tell me how to say it, so I can tell her myself."

She blinked. „Alright. From what I've picked up, the word is _spasiba._ "

He looked directly at her for the first time and repeated the word as closely as he could, and the woman nodded at him silently.

Later, as they lay wrapped in blankets on Yana's kitchen floor, Alina informed Erik about their names and what she managed to understand from Yana's story. They thanked him for the toy, she said.

"I thought you might want to know", she whispered, "What you did was nice. Her husband died back in Russia. She's all alone here with the boy. I felt bad, they've been through a lot", she told him with her eyes slightly glistening. She never really got used to tragedy after all these years; it still shook her to hear people's stories every time. She wondered if it might have been better if she learned to toughen up.

"How do you get people to tell you such personal stories?"

"Uh... I find the ones who want to talk and ask them questions."

"Is that it?"

"No", Alina frowned, "I suppose that's not it. I don't ask too much so they don't feel threatened. And I listen a lot. I try to show them I care for what they say. And I tell them things about me, too, so that they feel on equal ground."

Erik decided to remember that, just in case he felt the need to talk to someone for whatever reason. He was actually surprised she gave him an honest answer to that question - and, in retrospect, some of her behavior was starting to make sense.

"I thought you said you hate people?"

"No, I don't _hate_ people", she admitted. "I wouldn't bother doing what I do otherwise. But people make me nervous. Afraid, sometimes. It makes me feel better to just curse and say I hate everything."

He could understand that, but it still bothered him.

"Why?"

"Why?" She repeated, surprised. "Don't you feel the same way?"

"I do, but-" _Did I just admit that out loud? She's good._

"Well, that's why."

"It's not the sam-"

"Yes, I know. But it feels similar, though probably much less intense. A lot of people feel that way, actually."

She paused to look at him, suddenly alarmed when she realized what she'd said.

"I mean, I don't know what happened in your life, and I don't mean to diminish it, or say it's the same, by any means. I'm just saying we're all a bit messed up like that. Personally, I feel better when I know others are just as scared around me as I am around them."

It made him feel the opposite of better.

She looked even more alarmed as she realized it, her face red with embarrassment, and opened her mouth again. Erik decided to stop her before it had a chance to intensify further.

"It's fine, I understood."

Alina felt half relieved, half ready to throw herself off a cliff.

Erik enjoyed it just a little bit. _She seems less manipulative for a moment, and more relatable. Likable, even, for God's sake._

Deciding he let her suffer long enough, he pulled a small wooden bear out of his pocket.

"You can give this one to Piotr as well."

ooo

A few days passed. They let them stay with in their makeshift village as promised, in the tiny cottage next to Yana's. Nobody cared that they lived together in it; apparently they just built houses and put people in them that could stand each other. Many people had started living together just because they had arrived together and knew no one else. Erik didn't care either, he was not in a position to argue and he just survived four weeks with Alina in a tight space; she wasn't all that bothered by his presence anymore. It didn't take him all that long to fix the roof and make the house good enough to live in, since he had no other job so far, unlike the other villagers. They moved in as soon as they could and agreed to make a wooden wall in the middle of the room to make a makeshift kitchen and two tiny separated spaces to sleep in, because they could both agree that they'd need some privacy so they wouldn't strangle each other. They were both mostly out of the house during the day, sometimes doing chores around the village and sometimes walking together and trying to think of a plan to make money.

Alina asked the other villagers what they could do, and there was plenty to do, it turned out. She helped cook and take care of the children, and seemed to get along fine with the other women – and occasionally, they would both be asked to help with reading and writing letters or legal documents, which they obliged, and it significantly increased their social standing. The villagers were otherwise not too sure what to do about Erik and he wasn't too sure what to tell them. In the end, he settled for chopping wood and doing similar solitary tasks. He was fine with it, and no one was really volunteering to join him, but he fixed some of the other houses which made people a little less wary around him. He didn't mind doing physical work as it took his mind off of things and no one seemed to bother him for a change. Alina kept giving him more books and occassionally would come to discuss them in the evenings. Days turned into surprisingly peaceful weeks. The villagers didn't have a lot of money, but they traded food, clothes and various supplies for the work Erik and Alina did and it was enough to keep them going. So far, they still had all of their savings. Nobody knew about it; they lived modestly and the villagers seemed to respect Alina's help with the children and Erik's competence at constructing various things - so they kept out of their business and they were both, surprisingly, quite sheltered and safe for the time being. Alina still made sure not to leave the house alone after sundown. It seemed like a smart idea. Erik kept working on the cottage, adding isolation from the cold, bolts on the doors and various other things.

Alina spent her time talking to the kids and telling them wild stories; she taught some of them to read and write in English, to do simple math. She told their parents it would help them get better jobs later, and they agreed, if only to have some peace and quiet while the kids were with her. For all her talk of working with children, Erik could see it now for the first time. She was surprisingly strict – the kids were quite well-behaved after some time. Erik was not sure how she did it, because he rarely heard her raise her voice. Some of the parents told her to hit them if they misbehave, but she dismissed the idea with disgust, and Erik was quite sure she would have spiraled into one of her rants again if she thought they could understand her well enough (she still later told _him_ all of her opinions about physical punishment being inexcusable, even though he never asked her). The children loved her, and they flocked to her whenever they saw her even if she was done for the day. Erik noticed over time that they started talking in English sometimes, and Alina began to learn Russian from them – her knowledge of the Cyrillic alphabet came in handy. She felt surprisingly happy.

„Why did you leave? I thought you didn't like your past job." Erik asked one evening, realizing he had become dangerously accustomed to talking to her in the evenings.

„I liked the job. I was just ready for a change of scenery, I suppose", she smiled.

Alina sang to herself whenever she did chores. She wasn't particularly talented – she knew just enough about music for a school teacher – but it was still a pleasant sound. Erik never sang at all. He never even told her he could.

ooo

Alina rented a small box at the post office so she could send and receive letters. She sent one to auntie Giry every week; it had become a weekly routine to sit down on a Sunday evening to write it and send it every Monday morning.

„It's a small chance that she'll get any of these", Erik informed her.

„I know", she said. „That's why I'm writing so many."

A letter arrived one day, addressed to _gđica Alina pl. Boričević_.

 _Alina, I will murder you with my own bare hands. Love, Mama._

She found it extremely amusing, roaring with laughter as she showed it to him.

„She even wrote it in English", she managed through laughter. „That way, if it falls in the wrong hands or gets destroyed, someone can still inform me that she plans to kill me." She left to show the letter to Yana next door, and he could hear them laughing loudly outside.

A few days later, another one arrived, much longer and written in that same strange language. As she read it her face sunk and she got increasingly anxious, tapping her fingers and scratching her forearms. When she was done, she crumpled it up and threw it away.

„What does it say?" the worry in Erik's voice took him by surprise.

„My father is disappointed in me", she replied. „Surprisingly."

„By what, exactly?"

„I'd tell you, but it would take all day. It's hard to keep track at this point."

She spent the rest of the day in a foul mood. Erik decided it might be better to let it go.

ooo

 _That goddamned man can't let it go,_ Alina fumed.

She saw in his eyes when he looked at her that he was curious. She pretended not to notice, as she had apparently become an expert in pretending not to notice things about him. He looked at her with curiosity for two entire days. _Two. Entire. Days._ His eyes followed her while she did chores. It was eating him alive. On the third day, while Alina was making breakfast, he broke and finally asked.

„Why is your father disappointed in you?"

Alina sighed. _Of course he would do it like this, clever bastard_. She couldn't walk away from the fire while this oatmeal was cooking.

„Because I'm not what he needs me to be."

„Yes, obviously, I know what disappointed means."

„Why do you even want to know?", she asked looking at the bubbles forming in the pot. He hadn't asked her many personal questions since they left. She was pretty sure the only thing he knew about her was her name and age and whatever vague snippets of information she gives away while she's rambling. _Huh. That's actually troubling. I ramble an enormous amount. I might have already given him my entire personal history without realizing it._

„Because I can't figure it out", he shrugged.

„Just pick one of the obvious things", she frowned at the bubbles in the oatmeal, even though _they_ did nothing to deserve it.

„What obvious things? You are stubborn and brash and loud", _ouch_ , „but that's no reason to be disappointed. Annoyed, maybe. But I can't see a single disappointing thing and I've known you for close to two months. If anything, I'd pick „pleasantly surprising" to describe you." He closed his mouth awkwardly, realizing he didn't mean to say that last part. „Besides, you've been sulking for two days straight since it arrived."

Alina sighed once again. She was, sadly, _very_ succeptible to sweet-talking. She remembered that blasted green dress she bought because the man who sold it to her said her shoulders looked „enchanting" in it. It was on the bottom of her suitcase even now.

„Has auntie Giry told you anything about me?"

„Just that you lived in London but were from some other country."

„I'm from Croatia."

 _Of course he doesn't know where that is,_ she sighed. „It's a part of the Austrian-Hungarian empire. The south part. _Kraljevina Hrvatska i Slavonija._ Ever heard of it?" She tried another approach. „Does the name Nikola Šubić Zrinski mean anything to you?"

„I've heard of an opera that sounded something like that- wait, that is your family?"

„No, no no. I meant the opera, it's Croatian. I just thought you might have heard of it since you mentioned liking opera."

„Who is your family, then?"

„My family is upper middle class with a useless noble title, so like all rich pretend-nobles they like to dabble in politics." _Oh well_. „Croatia has been going through a kind of a renaissance for the past few decades. Our culture has been stifled for centuries by Austria and Hungary. They build schools for our children, but demand we don't speak our language or call ourselves a nation. Great many people are angry about it, so there's a movement to bring our culture back. They want me to get involved in that. That's why they sent me off to London; they were hoping I'd get a proper education that wasn't in German or Hungarian, which I speak horribly anyway, and come back as a proper heirress who would, I don't know, write patriotic books and go to tea parties with other intellectuals, and get married properly since they don't have any sons, only me and my sister."

„You have a sister?" he realized he never actually thought that much about the fact she had been alive for years before they met, and probably had an entire world of personal history. _Did I simply forget to consider that she was an entire person besides the things that concerned me?_

„Her name is Amelija. You'd like her. These hair pins are hers. But back to the point." She tapped the pins absentmindedly, taking another breath, because the next part was harder.

„Anyway, I'm the firstborn, so I had to be a lady. Except I'm horrible at being a lady, because as you said I'm loud, brash and stubborn. I ran away all the time when my parents argued, and they used to argue _a lot._ They're very strict, and I'm very stubborn, so I got my fair share of beatings, manipulations and threats. My father tried to instill this fear of him into me, hoping I'd fit the image he always had in his head of a smart, independent yet obedient daughter; but I just got more anxious and more defiant at the same time. It all went horribly and we couldn't have a proper conversation amongst ourselves for years.

So, when I was eighteen they sent me to London, and rented an appartment for me. They told me to find good tutors, get educated, and meet other intellectuals. They had some contacts there that I could talk to. So, I found some great teachers, I have to admit. I can't go to university for obvious reasons, but they were willing to give me books and they discussed them with me as you would with normal students. But my parents wanted me to study philosophy and politics, and that doesn't interest me in the slightest. I know what you're going to say, it's a noble cause they're after. I agree, and I support them. I'm simply the absolute worst person to get involved in it. Yes, I know how cowardly I am. It's my homeland. I think about it every day.

So I started lying to them. I studied pedagogy at first. Defectology. I stumbled on Freud's texts and became enchanted. All kinds of things. People's behavior. I draw, too, for fun. I love it a lot, even though Amelija is better at it. I can show you sometime. I studied the way people carry themselves and tried to draw conclusions from it. All very „young arrogant prodigal son" things, and everything _except_ what my parents wanted me to do. Until, I one day went to a mental hospital to look for one of my tutors, the one who gave me the Freud book.

I realized that the world I'd seen so far was nothing like the world out there, and that people were suffering in ways that I, in my sheltered little golden prison, could never have imagined. It humbled me and horrified me. I started volunteering there, then after a while they gave me some small money for it because I took care of and talked to some patients no one really had the patience to deal with anymore. I pulled everyone's sleeves to teach me how to talk to those people and help them. In the end, they got bored of me because I asked too many questions and I argued when I thought they were treating them badly – let me tell you, that was idiotic of me, never try to argue with a doctor of medicine - and I cry too much. Yes, I cried a lot. I wept like a useless heap in the broom closet everytime something horrible happened. I stopped being useful, so they let me go, which I think was fair. But at the time I already had some small savings. And I was much more calculated and much less brash and stubborn.

And, to be fair", she swallowed in embarassment, „I had finally got used to the fact people didn't listen to me all that much when they didn't know my family name or have my father's money.

My parents looked forward to me finally snapping out of this strange phase and coming to my senses. Except I took my savings, rented a new, smaller appartment where they couldn't keep me on a leash made of money. I found work at a local orphanage, and surprisingly, I was neither useless nor obnoxious in that one. I was good at it, but over time it ate me alive. Orphanages are not nice places. I wanted to make some changes, to see that the kids get treated instead of punished, because they all looked so worn down and traumatized to me. They didn't listen, but I was good at is so they didn't fire me either, so in twenty years perhaps I would've got to a position where I can make a difference.

Just when my parents were starting to feel alright with that, I sent them a letter saying I was going to America with you. And now they're furious because they've spent so much energy, time and money to educate me, and now I'm doing my own will again. My father also has a specific way of putting things to make you feel like nothing. It's an art he's perfected.

So the answer to your question is, simply, I am a disappointment to my father because I'm not what he needs me to be."

 _The oatmeal is cooked, thank god._ Alina needed something to do with her hands; she didn't feel good having told all of that. She grabbed some of it in a small bowl and started eating. He was watching her the whole time.

„Do _you_ think you're a disappointment?" he asked. She couldn't tell what he thought about it all through the damn mask, and his flat tone frankly made her feel judged.

„I don't know", she shrugged. „Depends who you're asking."

„I'm asking you."

„I honestly don't know. Ask me in ten years."

„Very well", he said, getting up and getting his coat to leave, „I'm not a good moral compass to have, but I can tell you this: you're the only person Antoinette trusted sending with me, and I cannot say what would have happened to me if you hadn't been there. I'm now alive, free and like I promised you, not harming anybody. Take of that what you will."

ooo

Erik's hair had grown too long, but not long enough to be tied in any reasonable way. It bothered him, getting into his eyes and tangling up in the strings of the mask, bothering him while he worked. For the first time in his life he became actively thankful for the fact he couldn't grow a beard, because what a nuisance _that_ would be. He had worn his hair long and tied away from his face for years, not really caring about it (or so he claimed – the truth he never admitted to anyone was that having long hair tied up was not only easier than cutting it regularly, but reminded him of the pictures of old-time musicians he saw in books). He only asked Antoinette to cut it short before they left for New York; but unfortunately, hair _grows_ and after some time he was becoming sure God only even put hair on his disgusting head to torment him with strands in his eyes, ears and neck. He hated it.

One Sunday, he took some scissors and sat down to either relieve himself of this itchy disaster or cut his head clean off. He took a deep breath, staring at the scissors. This had gone on too long.

„Do you need some help with that?", he heard a voice behind him and nearly jumped out of his seat.

„No." _Please go away._

„Do you intend to cut your hair or your ears off your head? Both are equally probable."

„Don't you have anything better to do?" _Please, please go away,_ he rubbed the bare part of his temples with his fingers, increasingly annoyed.

„No, I can't think of anything in the world I'd rather do than watch you attempt cutting your own hair without a mirror looking like you're ready for murder. Let me go get some sunflower seeds, alright?" Alina grinned at him happily.

Enough was enough. He turned around, now _actually_ ready for murder.

„Alright, sorry", she held out her hands, no longer smiling, „But I do know how to cut hair. I've done it before. You catch yourself getting assigned odd tasks when you work in odd places."

„I don't want you near my head", he pointed his finger at her.

„As you wish", she shrugged and left the room, pausing on the doorway. „I think it looks good on you either way, so just try not to poke an eye out."

Erik was so annoyed by now that there was reasonable doubt _someone_ might lose an eye if he took those damned scissors in his hands again. _Did she say she thinks my hair looks good?_ He'd never really thought about his own hair that much since it was in such close proximity to a much more prominent and problematic area of his head. It seemed to him like plain, straight, black hair.

He had half a mind to leave it as it was and suffer when he decided to be reasonable and go looking for her. He found her sitting on her bed, reading _Pride and prejudice_ again.

„I meant it when I said I don't want you near my head.", he started.

„Are we still talking about this?" she looked up. „I'm not going to lay a finger on you if you don't want me to. I'm immensely fond of healthy personal boundaries."

„Can you show me how to do it myself?" he said, feeling like he was going to regret it.

To his surprise, she immediately stood up, her tone no longer mocking.

„Of course. Although we _will_ need a mirror, or it will just be... look, just trust me with this, it'll pay off, alright?"

„I'll endure it", he shrugged.

She lead him into Yana's house, because Yana apparently had a mirror. She explained to her quickly what was going on, and the young woman lets them go into her bathroom, looking immensely amused. Erik realized for the first time that their own house didn't actually have any mirrors, other than the small one Alina kept in her bag for when she needed to braid her hair or fix her hat. In fact, she had been looking at windows and doors to check her appearance until now. She had never mentioned anything to him about wanting one, although she must have been used to having it. Erik realized she may have been trying to be kind in some backwards sort of way and just assumed a man who wears a mask at all times doesn't really want to look into mirrors.

Yana gave him a better pair of scissors and stayed to watch for a while, amused, until she realized it distracted him and left. Alina started explaining how to cut certain strands and thin them out so it wouldn't look like he just chopped it off with a blunt knife. It took a long time, but she stayed with him through it; waving her hands around she described how to angle the scissors and the hair, work around the ties of the mask, until the stupid thing actually did start to look more presentable.

She never once touched his head.

ooo

Yana's boy was sick. She was so worried and desperate she wanted to simply scream all the time. To lose her son to the same illness after she did her best to secure him a better life would be far too cruel for her to handle.

It had been a cold winter and he was too small for his age – he was already three years old, but looked like he was two. It was likely to happen. He turned weak and feverish within a few days; his cough sounded very wrong. Alina sometimes watched over him when Yana was too tired, but even though she'd worked at a hospital, she'd never dealt with physical illness. She didn't know what to do. It was hard for both Erik and Alina to look at Yana; her eyes were constantly red and puffy as she was beside herself with worry. All the neighbors came to visit her and it made her feel better for a while but the boy's state wasn't improving.

Piotr, normally talkative and full of energy, was now tired and obviously weak; he clung to his mother, and even his crying was quieter and weaker than usual. Yana kept him in his bed, giving her best to feed him, keep him warm and occupy him to get his mind off his illness. Erik came to visit with Alina several times and noticed that their house had some structural weaknesses – it would get too cold in some places, and damp, and it definitely didn't do much to help the boy's recovery, but he didn't know how to bring it up. The damage was already done, and he had failed to prevent it in time.

„We have to do something", Alina said as they came back from Yana's house. „He needs a doctor. It's not flu anymore, it's in his lungs. Even I can hear it."

Erik knew this, he had thought about it and reached the same conclusion; he took a small purse from his bag to give it to Alina. „I know. The girl will never be able to pay for it. Give this to her for me." he lowered it on the table, slightly embarassed.

Alina stared at him.

„Stop staring at -„

„Are you sure?" she asked softly. „Auntie gave you that money. You might need it."

„I'm sure", he nodded.

„Half of it will be enough", Alina said, digging through her own posessions. „I have something of my own to add. We're in this together."

„Are you sure?"

„Yes, neither of us has to lose everything that way." She dug out the money, throwing it on the table along with his.

„He still might not make it", he said, very slowly and carefully. „Small children often don't survive these conditions."

Alina frowned with some ancient fury he hadn't seen before. „I have seen enough children not survive these conditions to know that by now. But this one _can_ survive, and he _will_ survive even if I have to turn the Earth upside down to ensure it."

So it was decided.

Erik decided to go to Yana personally after all. She knew a little English by then, and he hoped she could understand him. He had talked it through with Alina and she'd managed to convince him it would be better if he delivered the message personally.

„You've been very kind to us. Let us help. I'm scared for your son."

„What can you do?" Yana didn't like owing money, but she was desperate.

 _God, she's so sad and so young. I can't stand it._ „Alina and I have some money and she will find you a good doctor. I can stay with Piotr so he's not alone. I'll watch over him until Alina returns. I can also fix your house so it's safer and warmer for him. I've built houses before, I know how."

„I have no money."

„That doesn't matter. We want to do this. I want to do this."

Yana nodded with tears in her eyes. Whatever debt she may find herself owing them could be resolved later. Erik had absolutely no intention to take anything from her ever, and would frankly prefer if she never mentioned this again after it was over. He told Alina the news, and she hurried to the nearest town to find a doctor.

She hadn't gone to that part of the island yet, her walks with Erik mostly taking them to desolate places. The town was surprisingly... nice looking, she thought. The island was, for that part, a tourist spot, with attractions, souvenirs and beaches; normally she would be very curious about it if she wasn't in such a hurry. She was grateful she wore her good dress and hat to do this; she mustered all of her leftover noble-born hubris while she asked around for a doctor with confidence and authority.

Soon enough, she found the doctor's office. The doctor was a pleasant man, with a thick mustache and very well-pressed suit; he looked to her like he genuinely liked people – but he liked himself more, she thought. Gathering herself, she demanded to be taken right away with all the entitlement she saw in her father when her sister was sick as a child. The doctor begrudgingly accepted her, lighting up a little when she waved the money in his face.

„My nephew is sick, and I think it might be pneumonia. It hasn't been long, but he's really small, and it's urgent."

The doctor nodded seriously, asking if she knew that small children sometimes don't survive pneumonia, and that he will go with her but there might be nothing he can do once he gets there.

„Yes, I'm aware. I'm also aware that you're the doctor everyone pointed me to when I asked for the best one on this island, and I'm quite sure you want to keep up that reputation", she lied without missing a beat. Nobody said this doctor was the _best_ one, she just asked for any doctor people could think of that wasn't a complete fraud. But that seemed to work on the man, as his eyes widened and his face lit up with interest.

„I will pay you all of this upfront", she took out most of the money in her bag, „and a bonus if all goes well, of course. You can count on me to come back whenever I need something if you make me believe you really tried."

It was bold of her to say this as a poor immigrant who just gave away half her savings, but her bluff worked, surprisingly. The doctor nodded once more and followed her to the village.

To his credit, even though he was surprised when she took him to a Russian immigrant village, he stayed with her and followed through. Maybe he constructed some sort of romantic story in his head about an illegitimate child of some nobleman, but Alina never found out about it. He nodded politely at Yana, examined Piotr, and explained to them, with Alina translating for her. Piotr would probably be fine; they came on time. He would need medicine and constant care, but he had good chances. He gave them very detailed instructions and told them to come again if needed, moved by the obvious desperation on the tiny pale girl's face.

As the good doctor left the house, he pretended not to notice the strange masked man observing him carefully from the roof.

Erik was busy at work all that time. He showed Yana spots around the house he intended to fix and explained what kind of materials he needed; Yana went door to door through the village to ask for them. None of her neighbors had the heart to deny her anything; she came back half a day later with about twice as much as he needed.

They spent a few more days in horror and anticipation. Piotr had a few more bad hours, but overall it was obvious he was getting better. His fever started going down a few days later. As Erik worked on one of the walls on their bedroom door, he noticed the boy sitting up in his bed, smiling at him with interest.

Over the next week, Erik fixed their tiny makeshift house so it wouldn't leak and the wind wouldn't blow straight through it anymore. Piotr watched him while he worked, with more color in his cheeks and more energy with every passing day. Erik would sometimes find himself smiling at the boy and whistling nursery rhymes for him. He made him more toys, and would sometimes tell him stories. He doubted the boy could understand him, but he seemed to simply enjoy the attention and the sound of Erik's voice. Yana looked better, too. She would sometimes listen to them talk.

One day, she called him to her telling him she had something for him. After some thought, she called Alina as well.

„You saved my son."

They were both extremely uncomfortable.

„I want to give you something."

They both refused, deeply offended.

„No, you have to take it. It belonged to my husband, but now he's dead, and if you two weren't here my boy would be dead also. Take it."

She reached under her bed and took out a small rectangular box.

„You can sell it if you don't want it, but I think you'll want it." She looked at Erik.

„What is it?" he asked her with interest, against his will.

„Look."

Erik opened the box carefully to reveal a violin, laid gently on a soft pillow, and a fiddle next to it.

„I can't take this."

„You have to."

„I can't."

„You can."

 _I can. But I don't deserve it. It's a beautiful old instrument. I can't have it. No one has ever given me something this beautiful._ He stared at the violin, almost hungry to take it.

„Try and play it", Yana offered, smiling.

He carefully took it out of the box; Yana tiptoed up to Alina to whisper something in her ear.

„She wants me to tell you that we both think you should definitely play it", she laughed. „She says I have to pick a song, and then you have to play it for me."

„Really?" They were both grinning.

„Yes! Please play something. I've never heard you play, and auntie Giry told me you were an amazing musician."

As Erik took the violin into his hands, he felt like he found some part of himself that he forgot about long ago. Lifetimes ago. Something terrible, insane and miserable. But something extraordinary, as well. Something that once kept him alive, but he'd decided to set aside since.

 _I've buried my wretched heart and now these oblivious, well-meaning people want so badly to dig it out_.

He had managed to avoid even thinking about music since he came here. He didn't want to touch this lovely instrument because he was scared of what would come out. _I want to forget._

Yana would be upset if he refused to play after she'd given him something so precious, but that wasn't the only thing that bothered him. What bothered him was that Alina would know much more about him than he wanted her to as soon as he let out even a single note. He didn't know what he was afraid she would find out, but he was absolutely certain some part of him would escape him and he wouldn't like the outcome. They'd reached an equilibrium and were getting along well. It was a shallow, unstable equilibrium, but he liked it. Why upset it?

 _But they gave me a violin. It's irresistible. And I'm not known for my restraint._

Alina was still grinning. She wished to be entertained. Well, that he could do.

„What would you like me to play? Something cheerful for you?" he asked, taking the violin and tuning it. It was in surprisingly good shape.

„No, no. You're about to play it for the first time. Do it for yourself."

 _Witch._

He started out with a simple improvisation to warm up, but ended up enthralled within mere seconds. _I have missed this so badly. I feel like I'm reunited with an old friend, like I'm home again. How could I have forgotten this? Was it worth to lose half of myself only to forget –_

 _Christine._

The music started pouring out as he forgot about the world around him. _Christine, Christine, Christine._ Love. Madness. Hope. More madness. Sorrow. Despair. Regret. _I once thought I could trap a small piece of happiness for myself, in my own little bubble, and keep it there forever. Just a small piece, just for me. Everything good in the world embodied in one person._

 _I'm sorry, Christine. I truly did love you._

He wanted to stop, but couldn't. He had to let it all pour through him now or he would explode; there was no going back now. The floodgates had opened and everything was coming out, the passion, the rejection, the rage. But as it came out through this remarkable, wonderful instrument that was given to him so lovingly it shedded the spikes and shards and thorns until it was the same thing but suddenly smaller, small enough to look at and safe enough not to kill him.

Bearable.

Insanity poured out and only sadness remained. And then it was over.

Erik put down the violin, suddenly very tired.

He looked up to see Alina crying. _Does she even know why she's crying? Was it that upsetting? Why am I so good at making women cry? Especially when I try to show them something about myself?_

„I'm afraid that wasn't for everybody", he offered, embarassed.

She was still crying, wiping her cheeks with her hands.

„But you asked me to play for myself, so I did. I just improvised and this is what first came to my mind. I didn't mean to upset you." In fact, this was exactly what he was trying to avoid.

She got up from her seat slowly and walked towards him, _still goddamn crying please stop,_ and then got much too close to him, and he stood stiff as a board because _what is she doing_ –

She started to put her arms around him and he nearly jumped out of his skin, but she did it so slowly he managed to contain himself. _The only thing missing is that you hit her now, fool._ She rested her chin on his shoulder; she was fully embracing him now.

„That was beautiful."

He wanted to either scream or wrap himself around her, and he narrowly decided to try the latter. He tried to return her embrace as best as he could with the violin and fiddle still both in his hands.

It was only the sound of Yana's soft footsteps as she left that reminded him she was there.

ooo

The island, Alina later explained, was divided in two parts: settlements of poor unwanted immigrants and the other, „good" half, the one filled with tourist attractions and pastimes. Every weekend, the tourists flocked to the „good" part and spent time and money on attractions, souvenirs, food and other things that were offered. Erik had noticed that the others made small things to be sold to tourists on the other side of the island – it was one of the only legitimate ways the villagers could make money in their current situation, aside from construction work and factories, given that they still barely spoke English. Erik made several of those toys himself out of boredom, each new one more elaborate and carefully made, until he started adding moving parts, singing parts and mechanisms in them. The village children were enthralled by them. The man Yana spoke to on their first night – Sergei – once came to thank Alina for teaching his son English and commented that they were good, and could probably be sold very well.

„Do you want to sell them?" Alina asked him when the man left. „Or maybe you can patent them, or sell blueprints to people who make them. They're very good."

„I was thinking about it. The problem is I am obviously lacking as a successful salesman."

She bit her lip, trying to decide if this was a good idea. „I'll do it."

„You would?"

„Absolutely. They're much better than the other trinkets I've seen the guests buy. Shouldn't be a problem to sell them, in fact, I'm quite sure we'd get good money over some time if you ask them for part of the profit."

„We?" he turned to her.

She raised an eyebrow. „Sorry, did you intend for me to be your slave?"

„Are you trying to turn your own profit on the toys I'm making myself?"

„Just for the part where I go around pulling people's sleeves and advertising and negotiating profit shares, yes. Do you think you'd be better off if someone else did it?"

Truth be told, so far she'd been quite successful at persuading people around her, so it was not hard to imagine her being good at it.

Besides, the remark about being a slave stung him more than he let on. He had to admit to himself he didn't think of her perspective like that. The genuinely friendly behavior she was starting to display towards him lately, instead of the controlled professional disguise, was entirely new to him and he didn't fully know what to think about it. He hadn't even considered that she'd offer this until now. They had both started doing separate things since they got here. Erik knew what he was good at, and he knew how to make use of it and she was apparently good at taking care of children and talking to people, judging from what he'd seen her do so far. It didn't overlap much, and it was likely they would go their separate ways over time.

A very small voice, very deep inside him offered, _so, if I do this, she's less likely to leave._

 _Where did that come from? She seems resourceful enough to survive on her own, and so am I, and I am no longer in immediate danger._ Erik had a roof over his head and could obviously get by with his own skills now. Why would he give a damn if she decided to stay and work here or on any other side of the world?

 _I don't know why, but I do._

That was ridiculous. He hadn't yet decided if she was even trustworthy or if this was all still part of some elaborate debt she owed to Antoinette. Maybe she was just looking for a chance to further her own standing in this place.

 _That's entirely unfair. She's been nothing but kind to me since I met her._

 _Isn't it unfair to also try to coax her into staying?_

 _How is it unfair? I'd be doing exactly as she asked._

 _Isn't it unfair to pretend you're worth staying fo-_

„You're right", he admitted. „It wouldn't be fair. We'll share the money."

She nodded. „We'll make a good team. Let's show these burgeoisie dimwits some real fun."

Erik bit his tongue to stop himself from telling her she's the very embodiment of burgeoisie.


	4. Friends

4\. Friends

 _Alina,_

 _I hope you know that, if mama gets gray hair and stomach ulcers, I'm holding you and your antics responsible. I must admit this one surprised even me, and I'm also holding you responsible for the chaos that ensued in the week after your letter arrived._

 _That aside, I hope you're doing well in New York. I'm dying to know who this "trusted friend" is, because I can smell your lies all the way across the Atlantic. Just so you know, if you get married in America and don't invite me, I will tell mama it was you who broke her window in 1881. and then you won't be allowed to come home even if you want to._

 _I hope you will find happiness and whatever else it is you're looking for in America. Remember to write often - I want to hear about what's happening!_

 _Love,_

 _Amelija._

 _P. S. I know about the hairpins. Don't play dumb._

"Well, at least someone is still talking to me", she said. "Amelija has always been more reasonable than the rest of us combined."

"What is it with those hairpins?" Erik asked.

"They're hers", Alina said, shrugging, as if it was self-explanatory.

"I gathered that much. They're just hairpins, though?"

"You obviously don't have any siblings."

ooo

Erik quickly realized that if he wanted to sell the toys to other people to manufacture them, he would need to make proper plans and documents to explain how they are made. To make those, he would need to buy paper, ink, paraphernalia, and some authoritative-looking clothing for Alina so that she could go and have them look at it and be taken seriously, and even then they may not take her seriously.

If they wanted to sell the toys themselves they would need to find a place to make a proper store so she wouldn't sell them on the street, he'd need better materials to make them with and he'd need to pay all sorts of things to all sorts of people and they'd need to make a profit fast enough not to bankrupt and lose what little they had.

 _It's frustrating how you need money to make money_ , Erik sighed. _I sometimes miss living in a basement._

He could, of course, steal enough materials to not have to risk it. It's not something that would bother him very much; but he had a _faint_ idea it would bother Alina very much, and since she already promised to do her part in all of it he found himself unable to do something that might jeopardize their integrity, and by proximity, her future.

They decided to sell the toys themselves at first, so they put the last of their savings into getting proper materials and tools. Alina had a small sum saved for "even greater emergencies"; she gave it away with the rest, but it was still barely enough.

"If anything happens to us in the next month or two", she said adding it to the pile, "We are doomed."

"Do you want your money back? You don't have to do this, you know. You could maybe become a governess with your recommendations."

"No, that's not how we're going about this. If we're partners, we're partners in risk as well as profit. Even if it means I won't sleep soundly for a month or two." She frowned. "If we have to bankrupt, we'll bankrupt together, damn it. It's only fair."

"As you wish." _That is actually strangely comforting._

"But we won't die, I think. We've been feeding and clothing ourselves with you doing odd jobs and my babysitting so far, so I'd say we can keep doing it, in case we fail at first."

"You can always sell your sister's hairpins." This whole running gag was becoming entertaining, even to him.

"And have her curse all my descendants for centuries to come? _You_ sell Amelija's hairpins, if you dare."

In the end, they built a small stand (to be fair, Erik was the one that built it; Alina tried very hard to be of help, but in all honesty she _couldn't do anything right_ and he had to ask her very patiently to please let him work alone so he wouldn't have to bother taking her to a hospital when she hurts herself) on one of the populated streets. It surprised Erik that Coney Island, under the new mayor, was slowly becoming less, hah, crime-oriented and now tried to be more family-oriented. They could certainly make use of that. Erik asked Alina to go and check if they could be imprisoned for simply building a stand and putting it somewhere to sell things without asking for permission and it turned out that, thankfully, they wouldn't. Everyone was doing it.

They both worked weekdays; Erik would still do solitary physical tasks and people grew accustomed to his presence enough not to outright gawk at him, but they still kept their distance. He was thankful for it – the odd looks were putting a significant strain on his patience and nerves. Alina was still teaching children English and babysitting younger ones; all for small money or other goods if the family didn't have much to offer. Neither of them got any quiet moments for several weeks as it took all of their weekends to build enough little mechanisms for the trinkets. Alina helped Erik as much as she could, bringing him food when he forgot to eat (which, as she kept reminding him, was all the time) and would take over when he'd lose his patience and my head started to hurt. They had less time to talk these days; and when they did, it was usually about work. Once they made enough little mechanisms, she started selling them over the weekends. It made a profit surprisingly quickly; the tourists seemed to like the trinkets and Alina made a lot of effort to attract people to come and look at them. Slowly, over the next weeks and months, they pulled themselves from the brink of bankruptcy and started making enough to support them; they'd even put a little on the side each week. They did not intend to live as refugees any longer than they needed to.

Erik made one extra little music box and set it aside. He had no intention of actually giving it to her, but he couldn't bring himself to just let it go for now.

Yana would often come over to help or just to have some company. She found work in a small cake and ice-cream shop as a dishwasher and when she wasn't home Alina would take Pjotr outside with her and other children. Yana told them she only started working there because she was hoping for another position – she was very good at cooking and baking, and hoped to find work as a baker. The problem was that she still spoke little English, so Alina put in some extra effort to help her with it. They spent a lot of time together, and Yana's English started to get better.

"Your spoken English is improving fast", Alina told her one day as they sat down to have a chat. Erik was just leaving to take a walk, bundling up in his scarf, hat, and other necessary layers.

"Yes. People talk at me all the time, so I just listen", she shrugged. "And it stays."

"Can you read and write?" Alina asked carefully. "Maybe it would be useful."

"Yes. But it doesn't help me here. It's all different." She puffed in annoyance.

"Really? Erik asked through his scarf. "How did you learn? Is this something villagers in Russia normally do?"

"No. But my mother knows. She had a book with – cooking recipes, and I learned from there. Mikita also had a lot of books."

"Ah." He paused. "What do you mean it's all different? How do you write in Russia?"

"Exactly as you speak", Yana replied indifferently.

"Huh?" he blinked. "I don't understand. Can you show me?" he looked around for a piece of paper and a pencil. "I don't actually know how to spell your name. Can you write it for me?"

"Of course", she said, taking the pencil and paper. She scribbled on it for a few seconds before showing it to them. On the paper, in simple handwriting, stood:

Яна Петровна Чаркашина

„See? Exactly as you speak", Yana said.

Erik stared at the paper in confusion.

Alina nodded. „That's about right", she looked at him and started to laugh. „I don't know what to tell you. She wrote it exactly as she says it."

ooo

For a while they all got so caught up in all the work that Alina forgot to write letters to Antoinette, and so did Erik, since he didn't write them as often and it never became a habit. It didn't even occur to him how stretched thin they were until it started to show in obvious ways. Erik would get increasingly tired and at the same time unable to sleep; a lot of things that he hadn't noticed before now started to irritate him. Alina had dark circles around her eyes and had trouble focusing. But she didn't complain at all until she'd had too much.

The next letter that arrived was from Antoinette, and the tone was much different than the previous ones. She wanted to know why they hadn't been writing for several weeks. It was clear from her letter that she was worried something had happened to them. Alina read it out loud and when she was finished she hid her face in her hands and stayed like that for a while.

"What is it?" Erik wasn't sure what to do about that sudden display of emotion, and it made him uncomfortable.

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"You are clearly upset."

She uncovered her face to look in front of her. Her eyes were very, very tired, and surprisingly… red.

"Whatever I do, however hard I try, I forget something important. There is no way I can do everything I need to for us to succeed. There is no way someone won't be disappointed, no matter how hard I try. It's becoming too much. I can't do anything right anymore, I'm simply too tired all the time. But I have to", Alina sighed. This was weighing down on her. She had become something of an expert for different kinds of tiredness in her life, and this was the kind of tired one felt after walking on a very high tightrope for too long.

The rant caught him by surprise. He was also surprised by how much of that he could relate to.

"It's not really about the letter, is it?" he asked.

"Not just the letter. But I promised to write, and I forgot to write for so long that she's now half convinced that we're dead. By the time my next letter reaches her, she could lose her mind worrying about us." She sighed. "I forget a lot of things these days. Yesterday I almost forgot which child I had to take care of. I was halfway to the wrong house when I realized. And they don't like governesses being late, I can tell you that."

Huh. "I don't know what to tell you. I work just as much. I can't make it easier for you." _But you can, if you leave this hellhole and find your own luck. Why are you ignoring that option?_

Alina felt even more miserable now. "I know, I know! I'll try to get a hold of myself."

Erik realized he was not exactly comforting her, despite his best efforts. He was not accustomed to this; personally he was fine with working on something until his body gave out and didn't pay any mind to anybody's expectations but his own; but as Antoinette told him long ago, most people were not the same. _What glorious life you have to offer. Are you going to press this woman too until she breaks? Or until she starts to resent you? It's inevitable, you -_

"I agree. We can't do this for long", he said. "When we have enough money, we'll look for better prospects. I'll make more of these", he gestured at the toys, "and we'll just sell the plans and patents as soon as we can to other establishments and ask for a share in profits. You won't have to do anything once the deal is made. It'll be better."

She nodded. "I know. It'll be alright. Thank you." She didn't look better.

"Besides," he tried again, _really_ frustrated by the success of his attempts at consolation, "we have enough money that we won't be ruined if you miss one day. I'll send word to your people that you're sick today. The children will survive. Stay home and sleep, I'll take over with this", he waved his hand at his papers.

 _That_ certainly surprised her, Erik thought. _Is it so uncharacteristic for me to show some understanding? Yes, it probably is._

"That's… very kind of you", she replied. "But what about you? You look just as tired as I am."

"I'm fine. I don't ever look very healthy in general, as you may have noticed", he shrugged.

She stared at him guiltily for a second before starting to laugh. "I'm sorry, it's just… I never expect these, you're so serious one moment and then just… it's a complete turn, and your voice doesn't even change, it's so deadpan, I'm sorry…" she kept laughing, and Erik felt himself relaxing. He realized he hadn't heard that sound in a while.

"Actually," she said once she'd calmed down, "do me a favor, let's just both rest today. The world will hang on until tomorrow. Let's drink a gallon of tea, take a walk on that strange deserted beach and then fall asleep for fourteen hours."

"I don't-"

"Oh, please! It'll be more fun with you." She smiled.

"As you wish." _That is probably untrue, but very hard to resist._ She nodded and went to get her coat.

Alina waited for Erik to put on his various layers – _unfortunately, it's soon going to be too hot for these. I'm not looking forward to it –_ and they strolled out, Erik leading through the less-populated streets until they got to the shore, and the rocky deserted beaches. He felt more comfortable walking around there; people rarely had any business there as they preferred the more welcoming, sandy ones.

There was something he needed to ask her; he had been waiting for the right moment for a while now and the moment might be this one. Alina and Erik had been cohabiting relatively peacefully for several months, and he'd gotten used to it. It seemed to him she was used to it as well. He'd say they were friends by now, but seeing as he had no experience with this sort of thing he could hardly tell if there was some other reason for her to act like this. He had been preparing the conversation in his head for several days and now he had a chance to finally ask her.

"Why did Antoinette send you with me?"

"I was half-decided to move on my own by then. She came with the right idea at the right time, I suppose."

Fair enough. But it was not actually what he wanted to know.

"What I meant was that debt she mentioned. I've known her for close to twelve years. She doesn't really keep tabs on debts to use against people. What is it?"

"Against me? She didn't use it against me. That was not the nature of what I promised in the first place." She looked to the side thoughtfully. "Alright, it's not really a secret. It's actually pretty boring. Here's what happened.

Like I said, when I was a child my parents argued a lot with everybody because they're difficult people – less so now than they were then. We used to travel a lot, and sometimes I'd get sick of them, so I'd wander off. It was a stupid thing to do, but I was sometimes insufferably willful when I was a kid.

Once I wandered off in the middle of Paris, when I was eight years old. I couldn't speak French at all, only a little bit of German and a tiny bit of English and I got lost. Auntie Giry found me crying in the street and tracked down my parents even though she didn't speak that much English at the time either. I got scared and didn't want to go back, because I knew they'd be extremely angry and I'd be in very deep trouble, and punishment would be severe. She understood me, so she lied to them saying – I don't even remember, she made up some brilliantly believable story about how it wasn't my fault because someone wanted to kidnap me and something – and they believed her, it was amazing, and I got away with it. I told her – in horrible German – that I owe her forever for getting me out of it. It started like that, like some silly oath kids make."

"You're not the first person I heard such a story from. Does Antoinette routinely pick up lost children and casually raise them as her own on the side?"

"Please", she smirked. "I'd be surprised if there weren't at least fifty of us all across the world. But there's more. So, I gave her my address and she gave me hers and I started writing to her. I learned enough English to at least have some way to talk to her and we sent each other letters for years. She encouraged me to pursue my own wishes and go to London, find a job and so on, but whenever I wanted to do something rash and impulsive she'd forbid me, saying that I owe her and now I can't throw everything away doing stupid things when I could be patient and in time get my own way. She also told me that I have to pass good deeds on to other people, that I can't repay her but to remember it so I can get others out of trouble one day like she got me. That was one of the reasons I started working with orphans."

"And I am one of those orphans?" he asked, amused. That sounded like Antoinette.

"No, I think the point of this was to protect both of us. Traveling alone is not very safe for a young woman with limited options to defend herself. You would get accepted more easily because you're with me, but I would be safer with you in case somebody threatens me. So we'd balance each other out. That was her idea."

"Someone being _safer_ with me is a very stupid notion."

"It works, though, doesn't it?" she looked at him with an expression he couldn't figure out. _What is going on?_ "I mean, we're actually as safe as we can be in this situation, and we're going to work together on getting a decent living here. It's not so bad." She made another, longer pause, and when she spoke again it was suddenly very quiet:

"Besides, I'm glad this happened, because you're my friend now."

 _I am?_ It was stupid to pretend this was not exactly what he was hoping for, but hearing it out loud still filled him with surprise and excitement. Erik suddenly realized he was smiling to himself like a fool and turned towards her.

She was looking at him still somewhat unsure, as if expecting something. _Oh._ He cleared his throat realizing she was expecting him to say something in return. The sudden realization that she was bothered by whether or not he thought they were actually friends made him smile even wider as he replied,

"Huh? Oh. Yes, of course we're friends. I think so, too."

ooo

Yana came one day while Alina was working to inform Erik that Easter, by Orthodox calendar, was in a week. He was sketching out something new, so he absentmindedly offered her tea while she sat down at the table, then returned to his work. She kept looking at him in silence. _Am I supposed to do something in particular now?_

"Uh… alright. That probably means more tourists." _I am not ready._

"No, that means you come over for dinner."

"I'll tell her."

"I mean, you _two_ come over for dinner." he could see in his peripheral vision she was eyeing him with annoyance now. He wasn't even aware her face could do that.

"No, but thank you." One of the reasons Erik had gotten along so well with Yana thus far was that she understood his need to not socialize any more than absolutely necessary. He had a blast spending time with her not talking much and usually leaving after a short while.

This time, though, she had other plans.

"I mean it. You have to come. There will be cake."

"Why do people feel the need to _feed me_ all the time? Does it look like I'm dying?"

"Yes."

He finally looked up from his blueprints, too shocked by the matter-of-fact certainty and lack of shame in her voice to respond right away.

"You need to eat more. Too thin", she concluded with authority.

"How does that concern you? I haven't died yet, and I've been alive much longer than you."

"You're my friend. Alina is my friend. You spend holidays with family and friends."

"I spend holidays playing disgustingly melancholic music and drinking until I lose consciousness, and that's how I prefer it. I don't care how skeletal you find me. You can celebrate whatever religious nonsense amongst yourselves."

She was looking at him in a way Antoinette would sometimes look at him, and he could already tell the next thing she says was going to be so horribly motherly he might need to punch a wa-

"God was cruel to you, but he didn't forget you."

 _Ah, yes, there it is._ He sighed very, very deeply and brought his fingers up to rub his temples, already feeling the birth of a headache.

"And you're here to grant me his forgiveness? I assure you, I don't need it. I'm doing rather well on my own. Or I was, before we started this discussion."

"Listen", she started, suddenly straightening up in her seat, with a glint in her eyes he hadn't seen before. "I know well what you do, and I do it too. You say: I don't need anybody. I can do everything alone. I'll stay here where it's safe. And you won't go and be happy, because if it's gone, you'd be too sad. So you do nothing. And you think, I did this good. Nothing can hurt me. But I did that too, and it still hurt me, and I had to come to this insane land to forget. Just like you. So don't do same again. Do better this time. Understand?"

"Celebrating Easter is going to save me?" _We were getting along so well, before you became so annoyingly… like this, you traitor._

"God has nothing to do with it, if you want. You come to see us, and be happy with us." She nodded at him thoughtfully. "Alina wants you to come too, but she doesn't want to say."

"Why? She sees me every day."

"Afraid you'll say no. If you tell her I said this, I'll have your head. Trust me."

Erik had half a mind to tell Alina just to see what this tiny quiet woman planned to do in that case. Something told him it would be worth seeing.

"I _might_ come by. I like cake."

She gave him a very sharp smile. "I knew you can be smart when you need to."

ooo

Unsurprising to people around her, Alina had always been very invested in holidays and celebrations. It could've been the fact that, when one works with children, such occasions were interesting excuses to break from everyday routine and teach them something new, try out different activities and change the dynamic from time to time. However, it was more likely that she simply liked cake and decorations, and was one of those children herself.

So it followed that she was delighted to accept Yana's offer to spend Easter Sunday with her and her son; while they didn't go to the same churches and shared very few Easter traditions (starting with the date of Easter) – well, Alina didn't really care. The sentiment was the same. And she would enjoy spending a Sunday with her friend. Not to mention she blatantly missed properly celebrating real – uh, _Catholic_ – Easter for the first time this year due to the overwhelming amount of work and the absence of her mother who took holidays with many more Christian feelings of duty and dedication than Alina could personally muster.

But that was beside the point. The point was, it was Easter, they'd be together, there would be cake and Alina will get to dress nicely for a change. _If there is a God, I'd like to think he'll approve of that._

"I'm going to Yana's this afternoon", she informed Erik that morning. He gave her something resembling a frown beneath the mask.

"Yes, I know. I was under the impression we were both going."

 _Oh._ "Oh. You're coming too? That's great!"

"She came to invite me. She said you-" He cut off mid-sentence, coughed and started again. "She said you already agreed. I'm surprised she didn't tell you. But then again, neither did I. It wasn't my intention to hide it", he finished, shrugging. It had honestly not occurred to him until now.

 _But you did hide it, for some reason. And so did she. Wait, do I care? I do care._ Alina realized she felt, in fact, jealous. They were both her friends, and she had met them both first, and she was the one who introduced them to each other and now they were conspiring behind her-

 _-slow down there, ten-year-old Alina. Let other people be friends, too. Life does not revolve around you._

 _No, and that's its biggest mistake. I'd be perfect as the center of the universe._

"Alright. Great. It'll be fun." she smiled at Erik, but he still looked suspicious. "Let me get dressed and everything, and we can go."

Finally, as Alina closed the door to her sort-of-room, she let out a breath and tried to think properly. Erik had the annoying habit of being perceptive and insightful in moments when she'd rather he didn't notice anything; and now she needed to think by herself without his prying eyes.

Alina knew exactly which dress she was going to wear as she dug through her tiny improvised closet, because it was her only lightly-colored dress and she usually wore it to occasions like this one, when she was not around kids who might mess up her clothes with their adorable little destructive hands. It was beige with frilly sleeves and tiny embroidered poppies on the hem of the skirt; it had an all-around innocent, airy feel to it. In fact, it made her feel so fairy-like she considered actually putting flowers in her hair and frolicking around through forests.

 _Actually,_ she realized, _there's nothing really stopping me from putting flowers in my hair. Why not?_ It's not as if she had to be poised and sophisticated right now, and she just happened to have some flowers on her desk.

 _How did these get here?_ They were not even arranged in a bouquet, just daisies and violets and other tiny field flowers scattered around everywhere. Maybe she'd brought them in by accident, or the wind blew them in. _Strange. Maybe those pesky kids did it; sometimes they fill my pockets with weird things that fall out once I take off my coat at home._ But they were here and they were in good shape – not too wilted or squished – so she decided to braid them in her hair while she took time to think.

Why did she get – uh, slightly upset – at this? Erik and Yana had been friends since they came here, and she had always been glad. In fact, she was still glad. Erik looked like he could use every friend he gets, and frankly so could Alina, so she had been subtly nudging the two of them towards being more open and meeting people. Alina really didn't wish to shut herself in and build a fence around her; her neuroses aside she did like company, and wanted to build a rich and colorful life now that she was here and free of her past limitations.

The self-assuring tirade did nothing for the fact she still felt strange.

It had to be something else, then. Would she be upset if Yana invited someone else, another friend or relative or even suitor she hadn't met before, to introduce them to today? No, of course not, she'd be happy for her. Would she be upset if Erik came with another friend or a –

 _Oh no._

She definitely would. But why? _Because I like being around him, and I want him to pay attention to me._ But he already did.

 _Yes, but I want him to enjoy spending time with me more than other people._

That was a horrifying prospect, so naturally she decided to ignore it completely. Her hair was braided and the flowers were woven through it in a sickeningly adorable fashion. She was probably done. _Let's do this, you crazy woman,_ she tried to assure herself as she stepped out of the room.

"I'm ready. And looking like a meadow, might I add. Don't say anything. I like it."

For a moment he looked like he really wanted to say something as his eyes widened slightly and he stumbled a little bit as he got up from his chair. _Thankfully,_ Alina hoped, _I have prevented it in time._

"You put those flowers in your hair."

 _He doesn't understand the concept of not saying anything._ "Yes. I found them in my room. I think those bloody kids must have filled my pockets with them. Doesn't matter, I like it."

For a moment he looked like he _once again_ wanted to say something but completely different because his look changed from surprise to annoyance. This time, though, he seemed to have learned the concept because he just shrugged and took his coat.

"We can go, then."

And so they did. Erik was extremely nervous. _This is the first time he's going to visit someone like this, since we came here,_ Alina realized. Even Yana mostly came to them, and mostly when Alina was home. Alina wondered if Erik had even seen the inside of her house since Pjotr was sick.

Yana greeted them at the door cheerfully, dressed in her best dress, with Pjotr playing happily behind her. The table behind her was full of colorful eggs with a small, elegant olive branch in the middle.

"Alina! Erik! You both came! You look great! Alina, you put flowers in your hair!" she laughed. "And a new dress!"

"Uh, thank you."

"Come in, everything is ready."

Erik was still so tense one could shoot an arrow off of him, but Pjotr saw him and ran up to him, hugging his legs.

" _Dzyadyushka!_ "

"He means 'uncle'", Yana explained. "He remembers you watching him when he was sick. Asks about you all the time."

"Uh…" He was still extremely nervous, but Alina could see the comment got to him. He kneeled down to look at the kid, amused. _His eyes are much less unsettling when he's happy. They might even be charming._ "So, I'd say it's time I told you how that story ended, now that you're better."

"YES!"

Yana smiled at them. "Let's go sit while the men settle important things", she told Alina.

The meal itself was a little awkward, although thankfully short; the situation was unfamiliar and Erik would still much rather starve than eat with other people, but Piotr pestering him with questions and rants constantly gave him something to do, so he mostly had an excuse not to actually sit by the table. Afterwards, Yana took out various cakes and pastries, and a small bottle of colorless liquid.

"I think you will like this." She took three tiny glasses and poured some into each, winking at Alina.

"Home, sweet home?" Alina grinned.

"Exactly."

She gave them the glasses and the two women drank it all immediately, Erik watching them and following slowly and carefully. Big mistake. The burn that Alina only felt for a split second, he felt for much longer, and the poor man started coughing violently.

"WHAT in the world did you give me?"

"Rakija. It cures everything, from skinned knee to sorrow."

"I feel like it added to my list of problems, instead."

Yana laughed. "Yes, but the other problems look smaller now, no? Didn't you say you spend holidays drinking and playing sad music?"

"I didn't mean drinking poison. Is this why your countries are constantly in wars?"

"No, the poison is often what _keeps us_ from killing each other", Alina offered.

They spent the rest of the afternoon playing checkers and entertaining Pjotr. It was such a peaceful scene; Alina realized then that she couldn't have imagined it a few months ago, back when she knew nobody and felt scared and alone, and back when Erik looked like he would like to disappear into the nearest shadow whenever someone looked at him. For a moment they all looked like family.

ooo

"So, I've known you for a while now, but I still don't know much about you", Alina stated as they left Yana's house. They could both still feel the slight tingling of the strong drink Yana gave them; it was probably wise to take a walk and clear their heads. It was an unusually warm spring evening and Erik proposed they take a walk through a secluded part of the beach. It was unappealing and full of sharp rocks; no one really wanted to come there. But Erik liked it. He enjoyed the wind howling around him and eerie calls of the seagulls above him. Alina didn't mind climbing the rocks, and she enjoyed the strange atmosphere too. Erik noticed she would go for long walks whenever she had to think, which was why he had decided to show her this place.

"Yes."

"Well..." she looked at him expectantly.

"That's intentional." He continued walking with indifference, hoping she'd let it go.

"It's also unfair! I told you so much about me!"

"I listened." he even cared. Mostly. She _did_ talk all the time.

"That's not the point!" Alina wasn't sure if she was amused or frustrated.

"What do you even want to know?" _You don't want to know anything, trust me._

"I don't know. Just tell me something!"

"My name is Erik."

"That doesn't co-" she was definitely frustrated.

"I was joking. Let me think."

Erik searched his memories for something he could offer her. Sadly, most of his memories were something he really didn't wish for her to know, and didn't even wish to think about to be honest. He could tell her something insignificant. Or he could make up a story. But some part of him wanted to give her a taste of what it was like to be him, just to see how she would react. So he tried to recall something he thought might interest her.

"Alright. I'll answer one question."

"Can I pick one?" she lit up.

"No, I'll pick it. But you've asked me this before so I'll answer now.

The strangest feeling I've ever felt was when I was much younger. I lived completely alone and talked to almost no-one. It would sometimes get so dark and quiet that I would, well... I always had these thoughts, in my head, that weren't very pleasant; in fact they were downright horrifying. But there were a few instances when I was younger, when I'd be alone for so long, that I thought I actually heard them."

"You heard voices?" She definitely didn't expect it, but she tried to handle the shock well. This is not the first time she'd heard something like this; the best thing to do when people confess something private, in her experience, was to take it calmly.

"Yes. I would withdraw into myself, and sometimes I didn't even talk to Antoinette even if she came, because I would... I can't really explain it. I was afraid of what I might do. I didn't know what was real, but things that made no sense, apparitions and voices, they felt more real than the real things. It would last for several weeks at a time, and then stop. I was completely trapped in my head, and I felt like _I_ wasn't real, myself."

"That sounds... very frightening." Alina looked afraid, but Erik couldn't tell whether _for_ him or _of_ him.

"You're in no danger from me", he tried the more probable option, barely concealing the bitterness in his voice.

"No, I meant it sounds like it was very frightening for you. Were you scared?"

 _Oh._ "Not all the time. Sometimes I didn't feel afraid at all. But some days I'd wake up and I'd suddenly be terrified."

"Oh. I'm sorry. How did it pass?"

"On its own, I think. And when I... got away from some things. Over time it got very rare, and then it stopped. It's been years since it happened."

"When was the last time?" Alina asked, because she didn't want to offend him by asking a thousand other things even as she was, by her nature, insufferably curious.

"That would be enough questions", he said slowly.

"Oh. Alright. That's fair. Thank you for telling me this."

They walked in silence for a while. Alina was deep in thought after what was said, and Erik had no way of knowing how she was taking it. _This was a horrible idea. I'm starting to regret ever telling her this._

"Do you think I'm a madman, now?" he asked, doing his best to sound nonchalant.

She frowned at him. "Huh? No."

"Even though I heard voices?"

"Listen, over the years I have met many people, mad and sane, and the more I meet the less certain I am in the distinction between the two", she skipped around the cliffs carefully. The wind was salty, she noticed. Salty wind back home usually brought the smell of rosemary, but not here.

"Do madmen normally have these kinds of stories?"

"Some of them do", she shrugged.

"Oh."

"The difference is those poor people can't function to this day, and you can. That's rare, and I'm glad for you. If it happens again, will you tell me?"

 _Unlikely._ "So you can put me in a hospital?"

"Have you met me?" She was downright offended now. "Do you think I'd just have you locked up? Against your will? Don't ever say that again."

"What would be the point then?"

"I don't know, maybe I could help you handle it. Or at least you can point your finger at something and ask me if it's real."

"You might get outnumbered in opinions in that case." _But it's actually not such a terrible idea._

She laughed. "Ha! Good point. At any case, thank you for telling me. That does sound like a very strange feeling. If this was a competition, you'd definitely win."

Erik shrugged. "Or I could just be possessed by the devil."

"Hardly. At least the devil would have given you something in return. Have you recently had, what, seven wishes fulfilled?" Alina stopped to pick up a small shell from the ground, inspecting it. _Hello, friend. I didn't know you also lived here._

"Just one."

"Ooooooh!" Her face suddenly lit up. "What was it?"

"I think we agreed this was enough questions", Erik said. "What is that?"

"Oh, I don't know what they're called here. Back home we called them _priljepci._ They live their lives stuck to cliffs, unless some adventurous kid decides to eat them", she said, showing it to him. She put the shell in her pocket, for good luck.

They'd reached the end of the road. Alina stopped to look into the distance, at the roaring sea around them. The sea reminded her of her mother's hometown. It was a different color there; a brilliant blue. This sea was a gray mess, the way Adriatic sea would get before a storm. She did like the gloomy atmosphere – it made her feel as if she was crossing over into some distant, long-lost realm. But she'd seen enough storms to automatically feel uneasy at the sight of gray sea.

 _At least the seagulls are equally obnoxious wherever you go._

"I actually really like eerie places like this", she said.

"So do I."

"But I think we should go back now. This feels like some ghostly deserted world, and I don't want to be in it for too long."

She turned around and walked back with Erik following behind her, toward the distant buildings and faint sounds of human beings.

END OF CHAPTER 4

 _A/N: Hello everyone! I hope you're enjoying the story so far. I will keep updating every few days (I have a lot of finished content for now, so it will be some time until the story catches up to what I'm currently writing). I'd like to know what you think, so feel free to leave a comment or a question if you have any!_


	5. Monsters

_June 1894, Coney Island_

Erik walked towards the house quickly, speeding through shortcuts. He had an idea, and it was far-fetched and unlikely, but the possibility of it however small made him jittery and nervous. He had to go on a very long walk to calm himself down and think about it. Lost in thought, he forgot about the time and the part of the island he was in, and now he was eager to escape this neighborhood as quickly and silently as possible. It was already very late and he still had a lot of work to do before morning. With a lot on his mind, he forgot to watch his surroundings and barely noticed the man following closely behind him. By the time he became suspicious, it was already too late. He was stuck in an alley like a fool. He didn't even have his knife – he had forgotten it at home, on his working desk, because these things do happen sometimes. He tried to think of what to do. He couldn't believe this would happen to him, that he would manage to get caught by surprise like this. _I let myself get lulled in this little safe bubble, I stopped looking over my shoulder and now I'm in trouble. Goddamnit._

Three of them came up ahead of him, and he realized quickly what was going on. Turning around, he noticed two more. They all had knives and brass knuckles. He saw one bat casually being carried, swinging lightly close to the ground. They were much too close for comfort now.

Trapped.

He couldn't take on five of them. He thought about the possibility of escaping. Not likely.

 _Who the hell needs money, anyway?_

They gestured him to take out his posessions, and he obeyed. He felt a familiar tingle of anger creeping up his spine, but remained steady. He'd make up for his losses later, he'd make them pay, but first he had to survive right now. They got closer, taunting him, amused by the freak; but he said nothing. _It's not just that,_ he realized. _They want this to escalate. They're bored, they need a fight, and the mask is making them curious._ _And we're all quite certain they'd win this one, so I can't give them the satisfaction._ Erik bitterly thought to himself how proud Antoinette would be of his composure at that moment.

But then one of those idiots behind him smacked the back of his head, kicking the mask off, and it was all over.

Everything in his vision went black as Erik lost himself. He didn't know who hit first, he or they.

He kicked and hit and punched like a madman, everything passing by in a flurry. He felt someone's nose break under his fist, heard another one's sharp breath as he kicked him in the stomach.

But in the end, five armed people would always be stronger than one unarmed man.

It was the bat that decided. It was impossible to evade forever in such a tight space, although at least the man holding it didn't have enough space to swing it full-force. Erik later considered himself lucky that the superstitious dimwits were too scared to hit his head, otherwise they would have easily split his skull and killed him.

Except for the one with the bat, who swung it half-force once at Erik's left temple and it was enough to put him on the ground like a ragdoll. Everything became a blur of boots, fists and pain. They left him alive, but barely. It was over soon though, and they ran away, with that one brave young fellow spitting on the ground next to Erik as he left.

 _In case the message wasn't clear enough,_ he thought.

He lay on the ground unable to move and stared at the night sky until he lost consciousness.

ooo

Erik woke up to a blood-curdling scream that sounded familiar somehow. He could barely open his eyes and didn't want to know what would happen to him next, but the scream turned into even more familiar crying. Was this someone he knew? If so, he should let them know he was alive since he couldn't move, so he gave his best to open his eyes and focus-

 _Alina._

 _She went looking for me._

He _had_ to be cursed. This was too much. A thought occured to him that she might not even have recognized him without the mask and just started screaming at the scene she found. Now that he'd opened his eyes though, she definitely knew who he was. He got ready for her to scream again when she'd realize just what had been her friend for the past several months. If there ever was a chance she'd... well, that chance was gone now.

She didn't scream again. Instead, she kneeled on the ground next to him, still crying with one hand over her mouth. It was a sad, sad sight. One he wouldn't easily forget.

„What happened to you?"

Erik wanted to tell her he was born like this, but breathing was hard and it would have ruined the theatrical delivery of distasteful jokes.

„Beat up", he managed.

„Is anything broken?" she asked, looking him over, doing her best to compose herself. Now was not the time to cry, and she had to react quickly. She put her feelings aside and went into crisis control.

„Errthing."

„Can you move?"

„Don't know."

She couldn't really figure it out from just looking, seeing as he was covered in blood and bruises. She leaned over him and he twitched when she got too close, but she didn't care. She took his left arm to inspect it. She was holding it so gently he could barely feel it.

„Broken?" she looked him in the eyes. Something was very off about his eyes.

„No."

She tried to repeat that with his other arm, but as soon as she touched it a sharp jolt of pain burst through his shoulder and he screamed.

„Broken."

„Got it."

„Ribs, too", he offered helpfully, hoping she wouldn't poke at every single one to find out.

„Figured as much. Your breath is whistling. Legs?"

„No."

„Head?"

„Maybe."

She moved even closer now; her left hand reached out and she moved his chin lightly toward her with her thumb. Erik felt dizzy, her face in front of him was blurry. The whole thing was so intensely uncomfortable that he almost passed out, but he still felt a tiny wish in the back of his head that she would keep her hand there a little longer.

„Your eyes can't focus. Probably a concussion. Come, I'll help you up. We're going home."

She put his good arm over her shoulders and lifted him slowly into a sitting position. Everything hurt. She got up slowly, and Erik had to lean on her because he couldn't count on his legs, but after a while they were both standing.

Blood welled up in his mouth and he spit it out. _How graceful._

„Let's go."

They started walking slowly towards the house. It was, thankfully, very close, because Erik didn't know how long he could keep this up. He felt dizzy, the ground was spinning and his legs were made of rubber.

 _And my face is made of nightmares, and it's inches away from hers_.

To make matters worse, the strain of moving combined with concussion and blood loss made him slightly delirious and he started rambling. The whole situation was so comically horrible, that he couldn't help but let out a few helpless, bitter, angry tears. He tried to explain it was unfair, and that she didn't have to do this, and that she should just leave him here because he felt so humiliated that he'd like to stay here on the ground, thank you very much.

„I'm sorry", she said. „This is horrible. You did nothing to deserve this. It'll get better."

He tried to tell her he was failing to see how it would get better because it never did.

„Because I'll take you home and we'll patch up those cuts and I'll give you something that'll make you sleep while I figure out how to set your shoulder right. And I'll take care of you until you're alright." Erik registered somewhere in the back of his mind how softly she was speaking and how she was straining to hold him up even though he was twice her size.

 _Why does this kind of thing happen to me?_ he wondered, and apparently he was still talking out loud.

„I don't know. I'm sorry. But I'm here now, and I'll help you." Alina didn't really know what to say. It was taking all of her mental strength to hold him up, talk to him and not cry at the same time.

 _Why would she help me? She doesn't have to do this._ Deep inside him something screamed trying to stop him, but the torrent went on.

„I want to do this", she said quietly. „You're my friend."

 _Does she regret it now that she's seen it?_

She stopped to look at him.

„No, I don't. Nothing will make me regret it. You're still the same to me. Remember that."

He didn't fully believe her, but he had no more questions for now.

They finally reached the house and she lead him to his bed to collapse into unconsciousness.

Sliding down the wall to sit on the floor next to his bed, Alina tried to compose herself to think. This was not over – Erik was still bleeding, hurt, his arm was broken and God knows what else was wrong with him. She would have to act quickly; she remembered where she found the doctor that cured Piotr's pneumonia, but she doubted he would still be in his office at this hour. Which meant she would have to go look for his house, talk him into coming, and probably pay him an impressive amount of money to get here, and then more to keep his mouth shut.

Casting a quick glance over at Erik's unconscious form, she decided it was a good time for her to take a moment to cry.

Alina couldn't tell how much of his face was hurt and how much was simply... like that, having never seen it before without the mask; she couldn't tell how bad his concussion was or if he had any other hidden wounds that would require immediate medical attention. She decided she would simply have to get a doctor immediately, through any means necessary, and hope Erik wouldn't wake up and panic while he was there. She had, luckily, remembered to pick up the mask from the ground and bring it with her; she was not eager to go back into _that_ alley to find it, and she had a faint idea it would be quite bad if he woke up and didn't have it at all anymore.

Having taken a minute to sob to herself in silence, Alina got up, wiped her hands on her dress, and went straight for her coat. She took the money, almost went out the door, but then changed her mind and went back to Erik's room.

„I'll be back soon", she whispered at him, reaching out to move a strand of hair from his forehead. He gave no sign that he heard her. She tiptoed out of the room and left, running through the dark streets for the second time that night.

Erik woke up with a splitting headache and a lot of other, unidentified aches. He had no idea how long he had been sleeping, but when he opened his eyes there was sunlight coming from the outside. He realized he could shift his head slightly so he attempted to look around.

Alina was sleeping on an armchair next to him, with her mouth slightly open and a book on her lap. _The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. Hello again, old friend._ Her hair was disheveled and the dark purple circles under her eyes were visible even as her eyes were closed.

Erik's left arm was relatively unhurt so he lifted it up to pat at his head. His mask was still gone, but his head was partially covered in bandages. He felt a large bump on his left temple covered with a cushion of some soft cloth folded over several times. That's what the bandages were for, then. They were keeping the makeshift pillow in place. Not necessary from a medical standpoint, but a worthy improvisation. Moving his head a bit more, Erik noticed that every pillow in the house had been moved to form a fort under and around his head. Curious, he looked at Alina again. Did she do this herself? If so, why? Maybe she just wanted an excuse to cover his face at least partially but as he focused on the nightstand on his left, he noticed the mask on it. Nothing about this made sense.

 _It's a peace offering,_ he realized. He could choose to keep the bandages on or to switch them for the mask. Either way he would get some dignity back. _Clever. She's thought it through._ But she hadn't realized he couldn't affix it anyway with this headache and only one good arm.

 _Right, my arm._ This one was properly compressed with bandages and wooden sticks into what seemed to be an entire exoskeleton on his right shoulder. Someone else did this, someone who knew what they were doing. The cuts and bruises on his body were also professionally stitched up but badly bandaged.

He was starting to piece it together when she woke up.

She stretched and rubbed her eyes in a very unladylike manner before looking at him. He tried smiling slightly at her and she jolted up when she saw him awake, hurrying next to him.

„Hey. I'm so glad you're awake." The relief on her face was sincere.

„How long has it been?"

„Two days." She started talking, fast and nervous. „I wrapped up your head because you were jerking around and I was afraid the shaking might make it worse. You couldn't wake up, and I got scared, so I called a doctor here. That was a hard one, I had to tear through half the island, and it cost us a lot. Anyway, he stitched you up and set your shoulder and said I had to wake you every now and then to check you didn't fall in a coma. But you'll be fine. They missed your organs, and your skull is still whole. It's a concussion, though, and your ribs are broken, so you'll have to lie still for a while. I've been changing your bandages, too, so you probably won't get an infection." She said it all in one breath and stopped abruptly. „I think. Do you have a fever? Does anything burn?"

„My pride, but nothing else."

„I'm afraid I don't have a balm for that", she smiled.

„Nevermind. You've done enough. More than I'd ever expected." Erik tried to clear his head to thank her properly. „You're a wonderful friend. Thank you."

She smiled a smile so wide that the room suddenly got much lighter. „Anytime."

„And, I'm sorry you had to see all this." He gestured at his face. She narrowed her eyes at him.

„Your priorities are really backwards, you know."

„What do you mean?"

„Why would you apologize for that? You didn't choose any of this. Even if I was bothered, that'd be my problem, not yours."

„You're... not?" _What?_

„Oh, I'm bothered alright. I'm bothered that you could've died randomly after I saw you only hours before. I'm bothered that I had no way of finding you or even knowing something was wrong but lucky guesses and instincts. I'm bothered by seeing you half-dead on the ground with a broken arm and blood in your nose and mouth and half of your body turned purple. I didn't care in the slightest about your face, Erik, because of _priorities._ In that scene, your face is the least likely part to haunt me in my nightmares."

„Uh-huh."

„For the record, I don't care now, either. I brought you this thing- " she gestured at the mask, „And you can put it on if you like, because I think it's every man's choice how covered he wants to be to feel comfortable. But I don't care, and even if I did, it would still be my problem to get over it and not yours."

He thought everything she said made perfect sense, except in another reality and not this one. She truly believed what she said, and the appeal of believing it washed over Erik like a soothing stream of warm water. Contradictory evidence was everywhere, but he decided to allow this comfortable illusion for now. After all, she did all this for him. And he was still much too dizzy and disoriented to bother proving that it was all a lie. So it would do.

„Are you cr- " Thank God she was smart enough not to finish that sentence. „Khm. I mean, are you hungry? I'll bring you some water and something to eat."

„Please."

„And some books to pass the time. For when your head clears", she offered.

„Great idea."

ooo

Time passes rather slowly while one is bedridden. Erik slept a lot, but was insufferably bored when he was awake. He could barely move so possible activities were very limited. He was reading so many books that Alina eventually started bringing him newspapers and magazines.

„What actually happened? Do you remember?" she asked him after a few days, trying to appear casual.

Erik lifted his gaze from the newspaper article about some „entertainment park" to look at her.

„I was robbed. Five of them jumped me in an alley."

„And?"

„And they started toying with me because they wanted a fight. Some bored lowlifes. I didn't mean to do anything, but they went too far and I lost my patience."

„Explain." he sighed.

„Well, I was already on edge from the start. One of them came up to me from behind and hit me on the head. The mask fell off. They got angrier and I went insane." _Stop frowning, wretched woman._ „They looked ready to kill me when they saw, so I thought I'd rather kill them instead. You can see how that ended."

„So you started hitting first?"

 _Does it really matter?_ „Maybe. I don't remember. But I don't think it made a difference. They just wanted an excuse."

She didn't fully believe him. Well, she was free to think what she wanted.

„Alright, I suppose", she said. „I can't really blame you even if you did. They deserved it. I'm just sad it all happened." She did blame him a little for not being careful, for almost losing him, but would never admit it to him in this beaten state. Erik refused to admit anything at all now that it was already done and he was bedridden with broken ribs that made it hard to breathe.

 _Fair enough._ He focused on the newspaper.

As days passed Erik slowly learned to walk and breathe properly again. His ribs still hurt every time he took a breath, but it was becoming bearable. His arm was in a cast so playing his violin was out of question, but thankfully his dominant arm was left, so he could still write and draw at least.

He decided to buy a small palm pistol to defend himself - it seemed like a wise choice if he didn't want to die next time. He didn't really know what compelled him to tell Alina he intended to do it, because he had a feeling she wouldn't like it.

She didn't like it in the slightest.

"I won't have something like this happen to me again", he told her.

"And that's the way to go about it?"

"Listen, Alina, I have to admit you're very good at making safe little bubbles around yourself, and you use the advantages you have well enough to avoid trouble. But not everyone is the same, and I for one am a goddamned magnet for trouble, and in nearly thirty years I've not learned how to avoid it."

She still didn't like it.

"Weapons are not trouble pacifiers! It's like putting out fire by pouring vodka on it!"

"Well, maybe I'd prefer to pour vodka on the fire and burn us all instead of just me!"

"It's a horrible idea! We'll have enough money soon to move somewhere safer, and you'll just bring the trouble along by doing things like that!" Alina felt herself getting upset.

"In case you haven't noticed, I bring trouble along no matter where we go! If it wasn't for me you'd already be living somewhere safer doing whatever you wanted to do!" _With whomever you wanted to be with instead._ "Didn't you notice this before?"

Her expression turned from anger to alarm and, slowly, into sadness. Which, Erik thought, was much harder to deal with.

"Listen, I can understand where you're coming from. I have to admit if this happened to me I'd really want to get revenge and make them pay for it."

"I have no intention of going after them. Even if I wanted to, I don't know who they were, because I forgot their faces due to my head being nearly knocked off my shoulders."

She winced at the memory.

"What bothers me", she said, "is that you're somewhat..." she trailed off, feeling suddenly anxious. This would not be an easy conversation, she realized.

"Yes?" _Say it already, damn it._

"Uh..." she furrowed her brow a little, trying to think of the right words.

"Alina, get yourself together and say it already." Erik had no time for the right words; he wanted sincere ones, even if they confirmed his worst fears. Which they probably would.

She was angry again, which was more bearable to both of them than when she was anxious.

"Fine", she straightened to look him in the eyes, "You're impulsive and aggressive at times, and your decision-making skills go right out the door whenever you're afraid. You just do whatever drastic thing you think will create enough commotion that you can escape. While I can very much relate, I'm afraid what it will be like if you have something that deadly and efficient with you."

 _I probably deserved that_ , Erik thought. Hearing her say it still made him feel like someone had knocked him in the head again.

"Are you afraid of me?" For a moment he was too shocked to be angry; his voice broke as it came out of him.

"Not like that."

"Like what, then?"

"I'm not afraid you'll do something to me, I'm just not sure what to think about your reactions towards most people. And yourself, to be honest."

"My reactions?"

"Yes. I'm not talking about you getting beaten up, because I think you couldn't have deserved something like that no matter what. But I've noticed you interpret situations much more threatening than they are, and you react... accordingly, I suppose, but it escalates instead of calming down."

"And what do you know about threatening?" Erik's voice was back, but it came back as poison. He felt like he was being blamed for provoking people by simply existing. Anger crept up his spine demanding a sacrifice, although with years it had started demanding less and less.

"I know some." Alina was bitter now as well.

"Some? Do you think I know _'some'_? Have you _any_ idea who I am?" _Stop now, idiot,_ reason pleaded, but he was just getting started. He raised his voice.

"Has Antoinette ever told you how we met? Because I'll tell you now, and you can judge for yourself how unreasonable I am. She found me when I was about sixteen, and you know where?"

She shook her head.

"In a goddamned cage, that's where! I was in a circus cage, chained and set as an attraction! People threw things at me for fun! Like some monstrous beast to look at from a safe distance!" Alina stared, wide-eyed and mortified. Erik pulled up the sleeve on his healthy arm with his teeth to show her. The pale, jagged scars she noticed on his wrist long ago extended all over his forearm, continuing past the elbow and under his shirt.

"That's how I got these! They spread all the way to my back! There's whip marks too! They had enough time to fester in the nine years I was there! Have you ever looked at a whip up close and wondered what 'threatening' means? I would have died there if she hadn't _stolen me_ from them like she was stealing a purse in some back alley! They thought I was a thing! Most people do!"

She stared at his forearm in silent horror. _I may as well ruin it completely now._ "So now that you know who I really am you can take your reasonable negotiations to hell and let me take care of myself!"

As anger started to leave him, he realized what he just said. _I think I better leave before she can kick me out herself,_ he pondered, but Alina had other plans. She was suddenly eerily calm and composed. The switch in her head was flipped – she was handling this as a professional in a crisis situation, not as a friend. Erik realized he probably deserved that too, but it still stung.

"Do you think that's who you really are?" she asked.

 _Does that matter?_ "You can ask Antoinette if you don't believe me."

"Do you think if I ask her who Erik really is she will tell me he's a freak she stole from a cage once?"

He had no answer to that.

"Because I've spoken to her about you, and she didn't tell me this story. You want to know what she told me?"

 _Do I?_ "What?"

"She said you were her boy, and asked me to take care of you."

"That's kind of her", he shrugged, feeling somewhat calmer against his own will, "but it's beside the point. The point is that you think I'm a maniac, so you might as well know why that is."

„Do I? Because that's not what I said. There's a whole world between „impulsive and agressive at times" and „maniac". If I thought you were a maniac, I'd be smart enough not to have this conversation with you. Haven't you noticed yet that I'm _extremely_ good at avoiding dangerous people?"

Erik suddenly realized why he wanted to tell Alina what he was going to do. He wanted her to talk him out of it. Even more, he wanted her to know the things he thought about and wanted to do so she could argue with him and he could see if she thought he was a monster. But now he had given away much more than he had intended to - she knew so much about him he felt like he was losing his ground. The more she knew, the more likely she was to see the simple truth of it.

„I'm a monster. _You_ just haven't noticed that yet."

She took a moment to think, slowly lowering herself down in one of the chairs.

„This seems to be a recurring theme with you", she said burying her face in her hands.

„No one knows that as well as I do."

„I have to admit I have no idea how to solve this problem."

„I agree with that too." He prepared himself for the blow.

„No, I mean, the problem of you having horribly dysfunctional ingrained ideas about yourself and others which I only now found out have been beaten into you with an actual whip. I have no idea what to tell you, because nothing I tell you will erase it." She sighed. „I can tell you you're not a monster, that people who put children in cages are real monsters, but it won't matter if you don't believe me, because you can always tell yourself I'm just delusional."

 _But I want to believe her so badly. Can't she reassure me some more?_

„What would help is that you try to tell yourself the same things I told you", said Alina, the professional. _I'd prefer to have Alina the friend back. I'll be lucky to see that one again._

„I know more about me than you do. It's not convincing."

„Well, the logical conclusion would be that you tell me everything that bothers you then, and I can make an informed decision about your humanity", she said. He decided to ignore the sarcasm.

„I can't do that."

„Why not?"

 _Because if you decide what I think you will, you'll be gone. And I couldn't stand that. I don't want to be alone again._ He was still not entirely certain the blow wouldn't come right now.

„I just can't."

She shrugged. „As you wish. But I wish you would think about what I said. Maybe in time some of it could even get through your thick skull."

„Please. So far not even a wooden bat could get through my thick skull."

A sudden burst of loud laughter erupted from Alina in the middle of that cursed mess of a conversation. Erik was glad to see her back being herself, if only for this moment.

ooo

Alina was at her wit's end for weeks. She felt as if she aged a decade.

Erik was... not himself, she thought, but at the same time he was; ever since she found him in that alley. It was all very random and confusing, and even though she could understand why he'd act like this, it still bothered her. He scared her just a little, but she knew that if she so much as thought that too loudly, he'd get even worse. So she pretended with all of her heart that it didn't bother her, and tried to reassure him that everything was fine.

He was moody and hard to talk to. He would get irritated easily when she was around, but when she was away for a while and came back he would be irrationally nervous, scared and often angry; but the explanations for why he was like that or what was wrong sounded like nonsense to her. Alina felt as if every time she left the house he expected her not to ever come back, and then when she was back he would sometimes act like she meant to leave but changed her mind at the last moment. He found offense and accusation in the most innocent things she said, and then she could barely convince him that he misunderstood her – even though he misunderstood her all the time! It would get worse when he was alone or had nothing to do, and then better again after she was home for a while. He never voiced his thoughts openly but Alina could read between lines – not to mention she had quite a lot of experience in noticing other people's anxiety and agitation. She noticed his nightmares getting worse again as well. She could sometimes hear him waking up and pacing around his room in the middle of the night. She realized his movements had that strange, ghostly feel about them as they did when she first met him – she hadn't even noticed when it stopped, but she definitely noticed now that it was back.

She spent a lot of time with Yana that month. They would go out on walks, talk about life or sit at home and try to relax. They both still worked nearly all of the time; the moments of leisure they got to spend together were precious to them and so they tried to talk about happy things; they both avoided mentioning the obvious problem looming like a dark cloud over the head until several weeks later, when Alina finally decided she could definitely not handle this alone. She had no idea what to do, so she decided to ask Yana one day what she thought about the whole situation, while they were walking around with Pjotr.

„Have you noticed Erik being rather... uhh lately..."

„Possessed by a demon?" Yana raised her eyebrows at her.

„Exactly. What do you make of it?"

She thought about it silently for a while. _Yana is a precious treasure in my life_ , Alina thought for the thousandth time that year. Beneath the shyness and timid demeanor was a sharp mind and a brave heart. Alina had no doubt she would have a clever insight to the situation.

„He looks through me when I talk. Keeps looking around the room. Whatever I say without thinking, he finds something bad in it. Thinks I'm laughing at him. Always nervous."

„Yes, I've noticed that too. Among other things." She told her about the nightmares and the bizzare ideas.

„Hmm." Yana furrowed her brows. „He thinks they're still attacking him. Who were they?"

„I don't know. Neither does he. Says he doesn't remember their faces."

„Oh." Yana looked at her friend sadly. „Then it can be everyone. In his head it _is_ everyone."

„That sounds horrifying", Alina admitted. „I have also noticed he's not entirely – decided is not the right word – he feels like he deserved it, I think. But not because of something he did. He just thinks he deserves these things, or that they're meant to happen to him regardless. But it makes him even angrier. He doesn't even consider that what he _does_ has any outcome to these situations. He thinks it happens because of what he _is._ He thinks he's a monster, or something similar."

Yana took one more moment to think while Pjotr showed her a peculiar bug he'd found. She talked to him in Russian, and Alina could understand barely so much to gather what they talked about most times.

Yana herself had noticed the same change in their friend, and she could actually understand it rather well. She, however, had somewhat more limited resources when it came to patience compared to Alina; she had her own work and a small child and was altogether the kind of person who avoided extreme situations and emotions, thank you very much. Her recent talks with Erik ended often with her rolling her eyes and going home, silently fuming to herself. She still came back every day, but Erik was so horribly _frustrating_ and Yana, having grown up with the notion that dramatics were a luxury people like her could never afford, hadn't really stopped to think about what actually _made_ him that way. Yana's good behavior was taught to her by her strict but loving upbringing and the expectations of people around her – it followed that this man had to live completely isolated from people and any expectations to be acting like this, and Yana realized she could not imagine someone living like that at all, let alone living happily.

She turned to Alina again.

„And you tried to help him so much. But every day he's less happy about it. Even angry. Yes?"

Alina swallowed something hard in her throat. „Yes. I thought it was just pride. But it's not that simple."

Yana shook her head. „Pride, but not just pride. If you say he thinks he deserves beating then he doesn't deserve... care? I think. But he wants it. But thinks it's a... trick." _That... that's such a simple explanation_ , Alina thought _. But genius. She figured it out._

„That's downright tragic", she said.

„Yes. Maybe why he's so angry. Doesn't know what is true. Good or bad", Yana replied.

„What should I do? What _can_ I even do?"

„I don't know."

Alina thought she might cry, just a little bit, after all.

„You think he's good? Not a monster?" Yana asked.

„Definitely."

„I think so too. But you're scared. He's strange. And looks dangerous when angry."

„Yes. But he's never actually harmed me. He's just rude. Undeservedly."

Yana sighed. „I don't know. It's hard. We'll wait and be nice. We can talk to him when it's over."

Yana was right, Alina realized. Whatever they may want to discuss with him would have to wait until he stopped acting like the sky would fall down on his head at any moment. Their best bet was to act normal and try to be patient. Keep being nice and reassuring. He couldn't be like this forever. _I hope._

„Thank you, Yana."

„It's nothing."

Alina had to think about this, but she couldn't think about it at home. She needed to walk around and get some distance between her and this bizzare situation, but first she needed to go home so she wouldn't just disappear for an entire day. She quickened her pace.

 _Auntie Giry, I wish you could help me now._

It didn't take her long to reach their little house, and when she opened the door she saw Erik standing by the window, looking outside in deep thought.

„Hello, Erik. I was outside with Yana. How are you?"

He gave her a small shrug with his one good shoulder, still looking at the window.

 _This man's penchant for drama will never cease to amaze me._

 _Is that so bad?,_ she thought suddenly. _There's something very honest and powerful about it. I don't really go around expressing myself like he does. Most of the time I'm concerned with how people will interpret everything I do._

 _Maybe it would be better if I acted more spontaneously._ _Some folks are like that. Maybe he'd be more inclined to believe my intentions if I seemed less calculated, since he can always find some fault in the words themselves._

It was counterintuitive, but certainly worth trying, even though it didn't come easy to her lately. But she would prefer to get some time alone first.

„Erik, I had a lot to do these past weeks... If you don't need anything I'd like to grab a book and read alone on the beach for a short while. Is that alright?"

He shrugged again, still looking out the window. It bothered her; it was completely different from before, and he was now unreadable. It was incredibly unnerving.

Alina grabbed her book and got ready to go. Erik was still silent.

„Alright, then. I'll see you later, I'll come back before sundown." she turned towards the door.

„Wait." If it was any quieter, she would not have heard it at all.

Surprised, she turned around, still holding the door knob. „Yes?"

He was turned towards her now, and she realized he was not nervous, angry or agitated. He looked sad.

„I... I don't know. Enjoy your afternoon."

 _Is that it?_ she nodded. „Thanks, you too." _This is very awkward. What is going on with us?_

She wanted to just leave and go think to herself, but something told her that what she says in that moment, before she's had the time to think about every word carefully, might be very important. She felt an incredible pull to say _something._

„Erik, I..."

„Alina, I..." he started at the same time, and then stopped, looking uncomfortable.

Oh. „Ahem. You first?" _I'm still a coward, yes._

But so was he. He shook his head. „Not a chance. You this time."

„Alright. I just wanted to say I've noticed you're not feeling well, and I don't fully understand it, but I want to understand. And I'm here if you need me. I really am. I'm not going anywhere."

„I was just going to", he started, „I just wanted to say I know I've been... I'm sorry, that you had to put up with me. I don't know why you did. But I have something for you." He took a tiny, simple box out and handed it to her. It was the size of her finger, with a little handle on the side and etched flowers on the top. Alina took it in her hands with extreme care. _It's a music box. He's made dozens of them by now; but this one looks different._

„You can play it later, when you're reading", he said. He'd _prefer_ it if she didn't play it now.

„Uh – what...? It looks so sweet! It's adorable!" Alina couldn't help but smile at the tiny thing like some impressionable little girl. _It really is something special._ „I love it! Thank you!"

„It's nothing. I just thought you might like it. I'll see you later." He got up and left to his room. _Little steps, little victories.,_ Alina thought. _He'll come back to us soon._

Alina left for the beach and sat down, not even attempting to read. The music box played a melody so sweet and romantic when wound up that she couldn't help but play it over and over again. It had to be something he composed. She'd never heard it before, but something in it rang like Erik. Not the brooding, strange Erik she'd seen lately. The other Erik who played with Piotr and walked along the island looking for hidden beaches with her. Erik who stole Yana's cookies one time because she told him there was _no way he'd be able to find them_ and Erik who sometimes spent hours on end playing hauntingly beautiful compositions on his violin. Erik who noticed much more than he let on and came forward with surprisingly caring moments when one least expected him to.

That Erik still existed, she would just have to wait for him a little longer.

She couldn't fully imagine how he was feeling. It was probably true what Yana said; from what she know about him – what he'd told her - it seemed he'd never had any friends or family save for auntie Giry. He may have escaped France but horrible people were everywhere and this was the kind of thing that apparently happened to him a lot. It was entirely possible, then, that he was waiting for them too to turn on him any day now. If Alina were in his place, she'd be suspicious if some people suddenly started acting completely different from what she'd known all her life. Thinking of her as their friend when all she'd been is some caged freak and whatever else he's been in his life. _How does a child know what he is? His parents tell him. This is your name. This is your age. You are a boy. You are our son. What have people told this man to make him believe these insane things?_

 _Well, even if he doesn't think himself human, I do. I'll think it so obviously and so loudly he'll have no choice but to believe me eventually. I'll be so overt in my belief in his goodness that he will feel inclined not to disappoint me; I'll be so adamant that all of God's angels will hear me if need be and redeem this strange, deformed, wonderful man. I hope that will work. I have nothing else to try._

Alina felt ready to go back, and just in time. The sun was starting to set.


	6. Ambitions

6\. Ambitions

When Alina came back home, Erik was still in his room. He didn't come out until the next day, when he greeted her with a truly brave but pathetic attempt at seeming normal and carefree. From then on, he did his best to stay occupied, reading newspapers and sketching out different designs for his mechanisms.

Alina noticed him calming down over the next few weeks; becoming less suspicious and more relaxed around her, and Yana, again. He became more quiet and withdrawn; as if he'd spent all of the energy he had had and now had to wait for it to refill. She waited some more, hoping his behavior would soon return to normal. It was the work that got him out of the episode in the end. Once he had drawn and described all of the designs he'd had so far, he seemed to feel better. _People do generally benefit from feeling useful, I suppose,_ Alina commented to Yana. She was busy enough with her own work, so she focused on that.

The city wanted to build several more schools for immigrant children. This, in Alina's opinion, was a terrific idea which she wanted to be a part of – so far, she had enough education and experience that she might just approach them and ask for work – but she was hesitant. She felt a slight pang of guilt at the thought. It wouldn't be fair to just abandon Erik, but she had no idea how they were going to continue what they were doing or make it a sustainable long-term option.

The stand was going along nicely. Many people had noticed her and remembered her; they waved at her as they passed her by. Other storeowners mostly didn't like her as she was their competition, but at least they knew about her, she thought. It might be good for the future that people remember her as someone who sold the damned things successfully. She was putting a lot of effort into being cordial and charming, and it worked wonders. The problem was, they were scraping the bottom with the toys, and Erik couldn't really make them very efficiently with one of his arms in a cast. So they decided that, once they were all sold, they would sell the designs and blueprints to renowned storeowners for a part in the profit.

ooo

Which, Alina explained, would probably include Jack Franklin.

Alina knew who he was, and she didn't particularly like him. Erik blatantly despised him because he couldn't feel anything in moderation. Jack had a small store near Alina; he sold everything and anything – candy, toys, trinkets, postcards and so on. He was remarkably successful and seemed to be a very cunning salesman. He knew who Alina was, too, since almost everyone there knew each other – and Alina happened to appear suddenly with a lot of very particular toys and a very particular attitude, and became popular among tourists rather quickly. While most of the others made it clear they didn't like her and saw her as unwelcome competition, Jack was smart enough to try and be nice and welcoming. Alina had no doubt he was doing it for his own benefit, but she had to admit it was still a very appealing act. Jack appeared to be in his thirties and had a sort of boyish quality on his friendly face. His messy brown waves and shiny smile made him appear very likable and charming to most people; a fact he seemed to be well aware of and one that made Alina very suspicious of him since she first saw him.

Cunning and calculated. That was the first thing she knew about him, and the second seemed to be that he paid absolutely no regard to societal pressure, traditions and prejudice of people around him. He seemed like a good man to approach with a business deal – he was smart enough to take Alina seriously and put profit over his own pride – as long as she would be careful and not let him rob her senseless. Erik agreed, begrudgingly, although it seemed as if he wanted them both as far away from Jack as possible. Alina thought this was an overreaction – although the man seemed somewhat manipulative and focused only on his own success, he actually seemed to have something of a moral code. While he was blatantly ripping off the richest, most snobby customers, Alina happened to notice him lowering the prices for less wealthy customers, and it seemed as though he dropped candies for poor immigrant kids to find them much too often for someone not at all forgetful. And in those short months Alina was there, he tried very hard to find out who her secret business partner was, but even though she never told him he was either nice or smart enough not to overstep any boundaries.

And so, one day in early autumn, Alina entered Jack's store with a handful of sketches under her arm and a very well-rehearsed proposal in her head. He raised his eyebrows when he saw her, looking rather smug about something. _I'm so glad Erik didn't go instead of me. He'd have wrung his neck._

"Good afternoon, Miss Boričević. How can I help you?" this whole formality was a joke. They'd been on first-name basis for a while.

"Good afternoon, sir. I was actually hoping to discuss something with you." Alina raised her head, her spine straight as a broom. She wasn't going to let some slimy arse spin her around his finger.

"I'll discuss anything gladly with you, Miss."

"Good. I have a business proposition, actually." she sat across from him and took a little breath. "As you may have noticed, I've been selling some very well-received toys that can't be found anywhere else."

"Everyone's noticed. It's driving them mad." He smiled at her. "Are you selling me the secret to your success?"

 _He's trying to get me out of balance by cutting to the point before I can try to persuade him. He wants to catch me off guard and lead this conversation. Well, I can play more than one act._

"Smart man. You guessed it." She smiled as well. _Go to hell, Jack._

"Forgive me, Alina, but a man is sometimes insufferably curious. How did you decide to do this, all of a sudden? You were doing quite alright on your own."

"Are you worried I'm scamming you, sir?"

"Absolutely not, Miss. Your face is a testament to honesty and noble intentions as well as beauty. But if I'm going to buy a secret, I'd like to know it first."

 _Please impale yourself on a spike, Jack._ "What exactly do you wish to know?"

His eyes had a glint in them Alina really disliked. "Several things."

"Alright. I can only hope to survive your interrogation."

"Who makes the toys?" he asked sharply.

"My business partner."

"Who is he?"

"Nobody. He's a hermit with a penchant for building these… mechanisms, illusions, magic tricks. He can build almost anything from scratch, but he can't be arsed to interact with people, so I do that part of the process. We came here together from Europe."

"Hmm." He looked at her while he thought about it. "And now he wants to sell these little blueprints so that someone else can make them, and he gets the money and moves on to other things?"

"You guessed again, you clever man, you." _Please step on a nail, Jack._

"And you're here to convince me, in place of this incredibly bashful man, that I should buy these blueprints for great money because they're the best damn thing I've seen in my long career of ripping off people with more money than brains?"

"Absolutely. They are fantastic, and you know it."

"That they are. What I do not know, however, is why you would approach me, of all people, since you seem to have been waiting for me to spontaneously combust for the entirety of this conversation. Surely there's someone you dislike less, with worse negotiating skills, you could sell this to? You'd get a better deal, really."

 _Right now there's no one I dislike more, actually._ Alina did her best to show only a tiny amount of irritation she felt. Just to make it sound believable, as if she had lost her composure. "Actually, I simply don't like the way you talk. It's so obviously manipulative I want to jump out of my skin. Might work with tourists or naïve old ladies, but I can see what you do." she took another breath. "But, I have to admit you're clever enough to have taken me seriously since I first saw you, and you recognize what I'm bringing to you as something entirely different. You'll make good use of these. Long-term, it's a good option to have you as an associate."

He was openly smug now. "Ah. I see."

"Does this sate your curiosity?" _Please get hit in the head with a baseball, Jack._

"On the contrary. Did you know I was once a journalist? This kind of thing just makes me more curious. But I'll stop for now."

"Nice of you."

"So, I have a proposition then", Jack waved his hand at the blueprints, "I'll buy these from you for exactly the first price you were going to offer. I don't even care what it is. I know you probably spent days deciding on it. I won't bargain with you at all. Take it as a sign of my good intentions."

"Alright…?" _please swallow a fishbone, Jack. What the hell kind of game are you playing?_

"But, and I'd like you to take a day to think about this – I'd like to order more of these, and I'd like you to sell them to me and only me, and I'll buy them for a fair share in profits every time. But don't sell them to anyone else. You're right, I can make good use of them. Better than these other small-minded dimwits. Let's think big. What do you say?"

"I'll… think about it."

He grinned a very snake-like grin. "Of course. Consult your hermit friend. I'd like to meet him too, if that's alright."

"Probably not a very good idea. For now." _For eternity._

"Oh, the heartbreak! Alright, then. Take these adorable sketches and come back tomorrow with your answer. While you think about it, tell me one thing: have you _actually_ thought about why you dislike me so much, fair maiden?"

"No, I try to think about pleasant things mostly."

"Oh, of course", he smiled again. "But consider this, fair maiden: I may not be fair, or maiden-like enough for your tastes, and I'm alright with that. But the reason you find me so unnerving might be because I'm something you recognize in your own mirror, and _you_ can't fool _me_ the same way I can't fool you. We're both sunshine and daisies on the surface, yes? Something entirely different underneath. Until you get to see what's underneath, it would be wise to refrain from making assumptions about my character, and I'll refrain from making assumptions about yours."

For a split second it seemed to Alina like he was actually offended, deep down, that she thought he was a manipulative snake; but he resumed his air of arrogance and cheer almost immediately.

"Alright, that's fair. I'll see you tomorrow." _Fine, Jack, don't swallow a fishbone. Just die painlessly._

"Farewell, fair maiden."

ooo

Alina hurried home to tell Erik about the whole conversation, and he was displeased. To put it mildly. She wondered for a second if smoke might start coming out of his ears.

"He wants _what?_ " he stood up, pacing around the room furiously.

"Well, he wants to work with us, apparently. Long-term. That's not a bad idea."

 _"Why exactly would we want to work with him?"_

"Because he's clever and resourceful", Alina shrugged. "He'll be very useful to us."

"And he also seems like exactly the kind of man we should never trust with anything! Why would we do this? Don't you remember how we ended up here?"

"By trusting complete strangers we couldn't figure out, to get us out of unfavorable situations?" Alina offered. _Check-mate_. He stopped dead in his tracks and she had a few more seconds to say what she wanted.

"Listen, I don't trust him either, alright? But I think we may be wrong. He didn't actually ask for anything suspicious or unfair. You're just – look, we're both overreacting because we're used to either having the upper hand with people, having control over the situation, or drawing into ourselves. It might be good if we tried something different. It hurts my pride to say this, but he's right." _Swallow another fishbone tonight, Jack. For having me say this._

"So you _agree_ with him? You want us to accept this?" he asked. Alina was surprised to notice he actually looked a bit hurt.

"I do want us to accept this. Your arm is hurt. You're capable of building amazing, ambitious things, and you're making toys. I don't think you'll be happy like this." _This next part has to be very careful_. "We're very overworked, and we don't have to be. You deserve to be recognized for your full potential, and so do I. I'd like to have time to work in that new school they're opening. I'll still work with you, of course", she hurried before he could interrupt her, "I would like to be able to do both, but I can't if we insist on doing absolutely everything ourselves from the very bottom. That's what I think."

He looked to the side for a moment. "You do think so?"

"Which part, exactly?" _I won't be drawn into a trap. I'm not sure if he's still in that strange phase where he takes words out of context and twists them into knots._

"You think we could make something more ambitious? Because I had an idea", he swallowed, uncertain. "I think I can make it good enough, but I don't know how to… show it to people, I suppose."

"What do you mean?"

"They're making these entertainment parks around the island. You know the ones? Closed, that can work all year?" Alina nodded. Of course, it was all over the newspaper.

"Well", he continued, "I've had some ideas. For those parks. Illusions, and mirror rooms, and rides. I've been sketching them out, and it seems like it might work. But I'd need someone to go and sell it to them." He looked at her apologetically. "Maybe someone who's more experienced in those things. You've been very good, but… I can't imagine you in that context."

"No, you're absolutely right. I hate big business." _Although I hate being obsolete as well._

"So, unless Jack wants us to sell everything that I ever make to him… if he's reasonable, he could work with us as a representative. Unless he intends to make an entire entertainment park from scratch with those designs. Which is all the same to me, as long as he doesn't bankrupt us or take our savings. "

"Do you want me to ask him about that?" This was going rather well. Alina was also internally dying to see those designs, to be honest; she didn't know he was even making them.

"Would you?"

"Yes, of course I would. But you could also come with me. It might be a good idea– he said he wants to meet you already. You can tell him everything, see what you think about him, and negotiate everything personally."

He looked worried. "That's not a very good idea. What about…?"

"One of the reasons I wanted him in the first place is that he isn't... shaken easily. I've seen how he talks to people. Even if he thinks you're strange, it won't bother him." Alina could say that, at least, Jack really did talk to everyone the same way. She had seen him talk to a blind old beggar and a rich young businessman's son. He really didn't care. _He might keep his composure even if he saw you without that mask, but you're still too stubborn to ever take it off, even in front of me._

"Very well", He sighed. "I'll try."

"Can I see your ideas, though?" Alina could barely hold her curiosity. "Everything you've made so far was amazing! I want to see them, please!"

He smiled a little. "Are you hoping for more gifts?"

"I absolutely am. Are you offering me more gifts? A whole armada of music boxes? A symphony just for me? Maybe an opera or two?" she couldn't help but grin.

"Maybe someday." He took out a handful of paper from under the table. "Now, take a look at these and tell me what you think."

ooo

They decided to both go to Jack the next day. Alina was only slightly nervous, unlike Erik who once again looked like he'd rather die and become a ghost than interact with another person. _At least this will confuse Jack, if even a little. I'd love to see that smugness wiped off his face._

"Hello, Jack. I've brought my business partner with me. We can all discuss it together now."

He definitely didn't expect a man in a mask with a broken arm, but alas, he's back on his feet instantly.

"Fair maiden is back! And with the mysterious knight from the shadows! It's an honor to meet you, sir. My name is Jack Franklin. I take it my offer piqued your interest, at least." He offered his hand – in fact, he took care to offer his left hand so that Erik could shake it with his healthy one.

Erik accepted it not noticing, pondering whether to smack him or run. Alina could tell, she knew him.

"I'm Erik. Yes, I'm interested. I wanted to discuss some of it with you."

"I'm certainly listening, sir! Your designs are something special, really. I'm sure we can come to an agreement."

"I have many more", he said. "I can make enough to support us both until we die. Why should I sell them to you, specifically?"

Alina suddenly realized she might enjoy watching this.

"Didn't I tell Miss Alina already? I know a lot of people, and I know how to present things to them. I can make them feel like they need it. I can sell almost anything to anyone. And you both seem disinclined to bother with it yourselves", Jack nodded at them courteously.

Erik turned to her. "Is this true? What do you say?"

Alina shrugged, following his act. "It seems so. He's doing well, and he hasn't been here long."

He turned to Jack again. "Why are you stopping with this one store, then? People have gotten rich much quicker than this. How are you so good, and yet I've only heard of you now?"

"Couldn't I ask you the same thing?"

"You could, but my qualities are not in question here. Also, I wouldn't advise actually asking." His eyes were flickering beneath the mask; Alina noticed barely stopping herself from smiling smugly. _Is this what men do when you leave them to their own devices? Smash their horns to death? This is insanely amusing._

"OK. I actually haven't been doing this for long. I spent some time being a journalist, and then before that I spent some time being a young prodigal son; traveling around making a nuisance of myself and getting into all sorts of trouble. It's only recently I decided to settle down and acquire some nicer material possessions."

"I have some designs for bigger things", Erik said, not really paying attention to Jack's life story, "Things fit for a whole amusement park. You're aware they've been opening up across the island?"

"Of course."

"Do you have any intention of starting something like that?"

"Absolutely not", he said, completely serious for the first time. "if there's anything I want to avoid in life, it's mafia. If you want to own one of those things on _this_ island, it's going to come with mafia, and bribe, and politics. Big projects, they attract crime like honey attracts fleas. And then some new bighead comes to the bighead chair, puts them all into jail and puts his own guys in their place. I have no interest in it; I value my head and my goddamn peace and quiet. I'd rather get comfortably wealthy and have them leave me alone. I've seen enough mafia in my life and I'm absolutely sure I don't want to repeat that experience. I recommend you follow my example."

Erik listened to him carefully, and nodded. "So if I'm to sell these to Paul Boyton, you won't mind, given our agreement?"

"Actually, I would mind, but that's irrelevant to our deal. I'd rather you sell them to Tilyou. He seems like the more far-sighted one out of the two. Good head for business, but hasn't sold his soul to the devil yet."

He nodded again. Alina had heard of both Boyton and Tilyou, and she was not sure if Erik was testing him, but what he said was true. Tilyou did seem to have a healthy head on his shoulders. Not to mention he offered to help financially with the schools and orphanages they were trying to build if his plans turned profitable enough. _Oh, this might all come together so nicely. Has he planned all this?_

Jack continued, "Of course, given your apparent disgust towards representing yourself, I'd do it for my fair share of money. I even know old George myself. I'd give him the blueprints and we'd all get a percentage of profits, fairly. It's not even a question."

That was it, then. _This went perfectly, actually. I'm amazed._

"It's agreed, then." Erik said.

"Oh, goodie. The fair maiden and the mysterious knight are on my side. We'll slay all the dragons easily now." Jack smiled. "Seriously, though, it'll be a pleasure doing business with you."

"You too, Jack." Alina replied politely, even though she was not exactly crucial for this part of the business.

"Oh, heavens above, Alina! I'm glad you've changed your opinion of me. I'm not such an unflattering mirror after all, am I?" _On a second thought, Jack, go fall off a cliff._

The way Erik looked at him made Alina think he was wishing for the same thing.

ooo

Now that that was settled, Erik threw himself wholeheartedly into his blueprints. Alina gave Jack the rest of the toys they'd made and he sold them remarkably fast; he patented their designs and started manufacturing them in large amounts. They sold very well, and he shared the money fairly every week. Alina started pulling some sleeves and some favors, gathering recommendations, and Jack even put in a good word for her with Tilyou as well. She wanted to participate in the school project; she was prepared to put money, time and energy into it and it showed. It helped that she knew a lot of the children as well. The whole system was lazy, slow, but Alina found within her some firmness and confidence she didn't know she had. Eventually, they appointed her as one of the teachers; they put them all in a small, barely-passable building. It wasn't much, but they could work. Some of the children were promising, and Alina remembered every result and every victory for when she would negotiate better resources and more funding. _This is important,_ she argued, and Jack sometimes argued alongside her. _Kids who stay in school have no time to be criminals. Kids who know the language can find jobs. Don't you want this? We need the money. We need the support._

Slowly but surely, they started to listen. Schools got better equipment – not much better, but a fair start. Orphanages got more blankets, more workers. Alina argued some more so that they would give proper education to the workers. Some boundaries were set. The children were always fed, always welcome and never beaten. She talked to the workers and voiced out their complaints until they got some days free and some support from older, more experienced people who would supervise them. Tilyou supported it, motivated by the money that might pour into his pockets when he saw Erik's unfinished designs. Erik's shoulder finally healed after a while and he slowly regained movement in his arm; he started playing violin again as soon as the cast was off. The melodies were now slightly less dark, more hopeful and lighter. Sometimes, when Alina would arrive early, she could faintly hear something sweet and romantic, but it stopped abruptly every time as soon as she entered the house.

Jack really was less insufferable than Alina had previously thought. He was good with money – incredible, even. And he really could sell anything to anyone. It made her wonder why he bothered with this schooling project; he was really putting a lot of energy into it.

"It's about public image, Alina. This kind of thing is good for the business. Makes us appear all saint-like. Humanitarian and whatnot", he explained.

"It's not just that, is it? You do believe in what we're saying." Alina was quite sure of it.

"Do I? Are you trying to peel my skin and take a peek, fair maiden? I assure you, if you do, I'll still be a snake underneath", he laughed.

"That's not true. I'm sorry I acted that way."

"That's surprisingly mature of you, princess. I remember being like you. I was full of big, powerful words and had a big, powerful heart. Bled it all over this country in my younger days."

"What happened?"

"What do you think happened? Life happened. I realized some things. Have you seen this city yet?"

Alina nodded. She knew what he was talking about.

"Well, I've lived here all my life. Have you noticed how people talk a whole lot about the good old days when all you needed to succeed in Coney Island was cheap liquor, a bag of bribe money and some fine ladies to rob your customers?"

She had noticed that.

"Well, not everyone was ready to do that. My folks got screwed over pretty bad. And once you fall, the dogs smell it. Mafia blackmailed every last penny out of them. And some blood."

"That's horrible. I'm sorry."

"Point is, it teaches you to take care of yourself, alright? I've seen a lot of this country. I did a lot of investigative journalism, too. Scum is everywhere. It's like weed, or cockroaches. You can't really kill it. You don't even know the full extent of it, because you walk with your face to the sun. All I want is to keep the vermin out of my goddamn house. Expensive house, if possible."

"Why do you care about this, then?"

"Because", he started, and stopped. He looked… tired. "After you came, the little delinquent Russian kids started speaking this horrible version of English all of a sudden. One of them taught it to his older brother, and his older brother came to me asking for work. I didn't need anybody but I knew someone in construction who did. The kid still works there."

"Oh." _Nikolai is still working on that construction site?_

"I won't say this again, and I'll deny it forever, but… you might be on to something. I'm too tired to do what you do, and frankly you're too naïve and sometimes annoying in this whole idealistic Oliver Twist narrative you have. But it seems to be doing _something._ So I'll help you."

"Oh. That's… thank you. I won't mention it again, to save your gruff gritty persona."

They walked silently for a while. Alina could faintly hear the sound of violin in the distance.

"Has your darling always been this eccentric?" Jack asked.

"I've only known him a little less than a year. But from what I've heard, he used to be much worse." The choice of words didn't escape her. "He's not my darling, though."

"No? Are you kidding? Is that why you live together and finish each other's sentences?"

"We don't fini-"

"Sounds to me like you're practically married already. Why are you skipping the fun part of it?"

"We're not! It's not like that!" Alina felt her cheeks getting hot. "Go fall into a ditch, Jack!"

"You've had better ones. My favorite was when you told me to step on a garden rake. Simple, yet picturesque."

"You can still do that." _Please, Jack, do that._

"No, I've been curious for an eternity now, and I want to know. If you don't tell me, I'll fish it out of him. I'm a journalist, remember?"

"There's nothing to fish out! Ask him, if you want! I bet he doesn't even notice it!" _Oh no. Did I just say that? He can't do that._ Jack had that smug look on his face again, and Alina started to panic.

"Alright, maiden, you can calm down. Your fair knight has some spikes in his armor, I noticed. Doesn't change the fact he would still die for you."

Alina was still silently panicking.

"I'll drop the subject now, OK? But it's true. If you both just get your heads out of your asses, you'll see. And then you can actually have some fun. Trust me."

ooo

She was ruined.

Jack had put a bug in her ear, and now she couldn't think about anything else. She had to excuse herself to pace around the beach nervously. She must have crossed it a hundred times already, but she was not done with thinking.

She had been successful at steering clear of this kind of nonsense all her life. She had good reasons to. She had her plans and ambitions on one side, and her stupid fears of _duty_ and _commitment_ and _being trapped in a life of a trophy woman and/or becoming my parents_ on the other. Alina avoided potential husbands like the plague all her life. She had no intention of risking to sacrifice everything she was – especially now that she finally had a good idea of it – just to find, _I don't know, love or lust or security, or whatever else makes women so eager to get a nice man and change their last name._ She was doing well enough so far, although she'd felt and craved all of those things, and at times suffered for it.

Contrary to a rather prevalent opinion, Alina's heart was not made of stone. It was just carefully wrapped, stored away and suppressed so it wouldn't get in the way of other things. The last time she let some _handsome young man_ know she even had a heart, she was around seventeen and the whole thing ended even before it started because the brave young lad was, as Alina found out on time, under the impression wives were just maids one wouldn't have to pay for. While she had never looked down upon maids, she definitely looked down upon unpaid labor. And it seemed like most men did not approve of her wanting to continue her way of living _until I goddamn decide to stop it myself_ ; not to mention most men were really not such fascinating creatures once she got to know them enough. Alina had dear male friends, and role models, but no one she really wanted to keep near her forever or some other romantic nonsense.

Until now, that is.

She was inclined to think she'd been more or less successful at hiding everything from Erik so far because she was under the impression he had no such interest in her. It was quite clear he considered her important; he seemed to trust her and seek out her company more often than she'd expect of someone so peculiar and withdrawn. But if he really did think – _feel_ – something more, she hadn't noticed until now; although looking back some things that he'd done do cast a different light on everything now that she knew this. Jack had noticed it on his own and Alina couldn't see why he would lie to her.

It was hard to throw excuses such as "keeping her own ambitions" when the man in question had been rather persistently trying to help her with said ambitions and not demanding anything she wouldn't do. And it was hard to say he was not interesting enough for her to want to keep him in her life when _I'm so blatantly, stupidly fascinated –_

 _I'm in love._ It was a bizarre notion and Alina didn't know a curse in English that would adequately describe how she felt about it, so she had to resort to her native language for a second.

She was in love with a man who was strange, and specific, and hard to understand. Not to mention a social outcast and very noticeably disfigured underneath that mask. Alina never cared about wealth or social status that much, but she had thought she cared about – beauty? Can it really be called that? There was something undeniably attractive to her about him, in that strange way men can be attractive when they're not beautiful. Something about his eyes made Alina want to look at them all the time; something about his voice made her wish he'd never stop talking and singing and something about his long, thin hands made her wonder how they'd feel wrapped around her. _Apparently, even spinsters and shrews like me want to be kissed. I may owe some money to Amelija since that settles our ancient bet._

 _I'm definitely ruined, yes. What will I do?_

Normally, her first thought would be to pack her bags and run. But she couldn't even consider it. Not just because of the life she'd built in this very godforsaken corner of New York, which was finally starting to go her way. The thought of going home to a house where Erik wasn't playing his violin, furiously drawing his projects or waiting for her to discuss something with that strangely mixed attitude of gentle understanding and sardonic remarks filled her with dread. She felt as if it would leave a hole somewhere inside her she'd feel for the rest of her days.

There was a very sad folk song back in Alina's homeland that she now felt like she understood. The singer tells of how he planted his love like a violet inside his heart, and it has since grown so many roots that ripping it out might rip his heart in two along with it. From what Alina could remember, the only things he could do were to either let it grow or let it wilt on its own.

 _I suppose that's my answer. It's beyond my control now and I can't do much but water it at this point. I only hope this won't end with a handful of dead flowers in my goddamn chest._

ooo

The world does keep turning even when one is occupied with their own problems, and Alina realized she hadn't visited Yana in a while. She decided to do just that and head towards her house the next day.

"Hello, Alina."

"Yana! What's wrong? You look… tired." _And sad._

"I am tired." She lead her into her house.

"What's happening?"

"It's work. They're putting everything on me. More work all the time, but nothing good of it. I keep doing everything hoping they'll put me as a baker instead, but they just throw promises and nothing happens yet."

"I'm so sorry! Do you need help? Maybe we could-"

"No, Alina", she sighed. "I don't need help. I need to do this on my own for now. You can't fix everything for everyone. I can fight for myself, I just need more time. Until then, life is a mess."

 _Well, she's right,_ Alina thought. _I can't fix her life. But I can still do something._

"Maybe Erik and I could watch Pjotr more often so you can rest – or you and I could go to walks together, or have tea more often. You'll feel better when you have something nice to look forward to."

"That… would be good." She sighed again. "I missed you, Alina. Everything is so dramatic with you, but nothing is so serious that I could lose my job if I say something wrong. It does cheer me up talking to someone."

"I missed you too!" _I'm not that dramatic._ "Do you want to tell me trash about other workers? I won't tell anyone, I swear, I love hearing about this stuff. You'll feel better."

"Really?"

"Yes, as you've so cleverly noticed, I thrive on drama. What else would explain my choice of books?"

Yana smiled mischievously for the first time since Alina arrived. "You're right. You need to be watered like a plant. Except with tears and stories."

"That's a very appropriate and unfortunate comparison, but I'll take it."

"There's something bothering you, too. Will you tell me?" Alina always forgot how perceptive Yana was. She'd be surprised if she hadn't already guessed what was bothering her, but she was not quite ready to discuss it yet.

"I'll tell you another time, alright? I need to settle it with myself first. And you have more interesting things to complain about, I'm sure."

"Alright. I'll get us something to drink and I'll tell you all. You'll love it."

END OF CHAPTER 6


	7. Happiness

7\. Happiness

 _November 1884, Paris_

 _„Erik, why did you avoid me for so long?"_

 _„Because you were angry."_

 _„I wasn't. Why would I be?"_

 _„You seemed angry."_

 _„Hmm." She looked at him with confusion, furrowing her brow. „What made you think that?"_

 _„I don't know. Your voice. And..."he trailed off. He actually didn't know how he knew that; he just did._

 _„And what did you think I was angry about?"_

 _„I don't know", he shrugged. She sat in silence, waiting stubbornly for him to answer. „Maybe because I was... bad."_

 _„Bad?"_

 _„I stole the managers' sweets." Which he personally saw no problem with, seeing as he was surviving exclusively off of stolen things at that moment. He had nothing that he'd bought, earned or received other than a set of clothes and one pair of gloves Antoinette gave him when she first brought him home._

 _„ I told you I wasn't angry about that. And you started avoiding me long before."_

 _„I was bad long before that", he blurted out, not thinking. She was looking at him intently now._

 _„Don't stare at-"_

 _„How long? Tell me honestly. Since when have you been bad?"_

 _„Always. Since always."_

 _She shook her head, looking like she was going to cry. Maybe she finally understood the truth._

 _„If some other boy – someone who wasn't bad since always – was in your place, do you think I'd be angry with him? That I would have any resonable cause to be so angry, that he'd have to be afraid and avoid me?"_

 _„No."_

 _„So you were afraid of me simply because you thought I'd realized you're just bad and have always been?"_

 _He didn't want to answer that question. He got up, finished with the conversation. She tugged on his shirt lightly, trying to pull him to sit back._

 _„Wait just a minute, and then you can go. Just listen."_

 _Maybe he could. He was bored without her anyway, and after he left he would have to wait several days before he could speak to her again._

 _„I think we've had a misunderstanding. But I have an idea how to resolve those in the future."_

 _He nodded._

 _„Whenever you think I'm angry or something like that, or you're just not sure how I feel, just pretend, or imagine, that instead of you I'm talking to some other boy, like I just described. Someone who's not bad. And then you'll know."_

 _„That's stupid. I'm not some other boy." Or a boy in general, he thought. I'm closer to an animal._

 _„I know you think that, but I don't think that. So just try. If you can't believe it, just pretend you're a normal boy I'm visiting and talking to. I promise you'll never misunderstand me if you do that. Can you try, maybe? You have nothing to lose."_

 _„I could try."_

 _„Thank you." She smiled. „It'll work, I promise."_

November 1894, Coney Island

Erik felt so relieved on the day he finally got his arm back that he thought he might break into song and dance as the doctor took the immobilizing cast off of him. He was so beside himself he barely even noticed that the man was too close to him and touching his shoulder. He wanted to scale a cliff with his bare hands; he had been so trapped in the cast and in his own head that this small victory overwhelmed him with joy. Seeing as his head was still a mess, having all of his appendages back would have to be enough for now, even if his arm might take some time to regain its previous functionality.

The past few months had been disturbing to Erik, to put it mildly. He was quite certain they had been disturbing to people around him as well. This goddamn episode had stirred some things inside him that he thought he had pushed deep enough not to ever encounter again, and yet, at the first loss of control over this safe little world he had created they resurfaced just the same. He'd lost control over his body, over his mind, and as he had come to realize, over his heart as well.

Erik spent weeks after the robbery incident waiting for Alina to finally come to her senses and realize she needed to get out of there and out of his vicinity, but she stubbornly persisted even as he made a fool of himself in his dramatic misery. He could not fathom why she was still here, he could not imagine her thinking of him as anything but a monster now that she had seen – and heard – all of that. But she _was_ still here, with that same warm demeanor even after she'd seen his disfigured face and as the thought finally settled in his thick skull, he'd decided it would be better if he made it worth her while.

The only catharsis that came for Erik out of that whole period was the realization that he really did care for Alina. Even as he argued with her and avoided her, the thought of her actually leaving filled him with dread and he had no more energy to pretend otherwise. He had to admit it at least to himself, seeing as he would never be able to admit it to her, that he loved her. It was a simple truth, but immense in its implications and once it was out in the open it tinted everything around him with its colorful, dreadful brushstrokes. He thought about it as she left in the mornings and he wished to take her hand and ask her to stay a little longer, he thought about it during the day when she wasn't there and he wished to hear her voice and he thought about it in the evenings when she came back and he wished to bury his face in her soft, dark hair. It took an insane amount of composure not to reveal what he was thinking. He had resigned himself to simply watch from a distance, terrified of what would happen if he gave any of it away. He had already been given more than he had hoped for. He had no wish to destroy it with his greedy, selfish tendencies.

It was work that occupied Erik in the end and pulled him out of his wallowing. It provided a healthy distraction from things he could not bear to think about. He threw himself into sketching, constructing and bringing to life numerous illusions and tricks and it gave him a sense of competence and confidence he had otherwise been lacking lately. Having a new partner where there had only been two of them so far was a sudden, drastic change, but Jack proved to be skilled, adaptable and smart enough for them all to find a way to cooperate. Erik had to admit everything was much easier now – nothing shook Jack; he was completely calm through situations that would send Alina or Erik spiraling into frustration and anger, and he had a certain sense for business that made negotiating and presenting Erik's ideas end up well-received most times. He was also, thankfully, completely uninterested in Alina in any romantic way. In Erik's mind he could already see the two of them together when Alina first came to him with the idea to include Jack; it made him panic for days. It seemed, however, that would not happen at all.

Still, the dynamic shifted noticeably and they all had to get used to it. Jack turned out to be less infuriating than they had previously imagined. Alina and Erik both had to admit they'd grown somewhat fond of his amusing presence and his constant torrent of words. Jack seemed to enjoy their company as well, even as he kept his distance and appeared to sometimes simply observe them with amusement like actors on a stage.

With all that, Alina and Erik finally had some time to breathe since the immense amount of things that still had to be done was split between three people instead of two. Alina started going on more walks and spending time with Yana again. They saved most of their money so they could get a decent living, but the small amount she did spend, she used on new books and clothes. The small change clearly left a great impact on her – she walked straight again, with more confidence; her eyes had a spark in them whenever she had enough time to read. The two of them also had time to talk again in the evenings, and she often asked Erik to play or sing something for her. He would often oblige, and even though he couldn't make himself express what he really wanted to, it would sometimes slip out of him as a gentle shift in melodies and atmospheres. He could never tell if she noticed it or not, but she would be enchanted by the music nevertheless. She would praise him with excitement after every composition and he shamelessly enjoyed it.

ooo

Winter came again, and one cold morning Erik woke up to see a soft white blanket on the ground.

 _The world has a way of coming to a standstill on snowy mornings,_ he thought looking out the window. All movement outside was slow, all sound was muffled. He stood quietly by the window, enjoying the scene. It was ethereal, serene, and he wanted to savor the moment.

Behind him, the door to Alina's room opened abruptly with a loud _bang_ and she practically ran out, in her nightdress and her hair down and messy, still holding her blanket around her. She stormed through the room to the window where he was standing in a second, opened it, and leaned outside.

„FIRST SNOW!" she started laughing excitedly, eyes sparkling and hair flowing around her face.

Erik's ears hurt, so he automatically brought his fingers to rub his temples. „Who are you yelling for? Everyone knows."

„THE SKY!" she held out her arms high above her.

„I'm sure the sky is aware as well."

„I'm expressing my gratitude!" She kept laughing, leaning through. The cold air bit her eventually, so she begrudgingly got inside and closed the window. She looked at Erik, still messy and unkempt, and so, so happy; it was so contagious. He considered for a moment grabbing her and spinning her around, but he just smiled.

„What is this sudden outburst for? You've seen snow before."

She beamed at him. „I love it! It's beautiful! This is my favorite season!" she stormed off to put water on the stove for coffee.

„I was just thinking that when you ruined my moment." Erik chuckled. „It was very romantic before you stormed in like a cavalry."

„Nonsense! I am the messenger of joy and love!" she laughed before settling down. „Amelija and I would always get a little crazy this time of year. I love snow, and holidays are coming soon, and I hope you're aware I will make a very big deal out of it all."

 _I'm afraid to ask._ „In what way?"

„I will decorate the house, and you'll help me." He didn't care about decorating _or_ holidays for that matter, but she was so happy he might actually do it. „I'll get us some nice wine for a change, and I'll make cakes, traditional ones so if you don't eat them you'll be offending my entire culture. And then my great-grandma's ghost will come and haunt you."

„I won't notice the difference. What's one more Borichevich pestering me everyday?"

She slapped his arm lightly in that same manner Antoinette used to. „That's not fair! I'm nice! Granny would just follow you around telling you to comb your hair and trying to correct your posture."

„Exactly the same, then."

Rolling her eyes, she continued. „There will be presents as well. I'm trying to think of something for Yana, and maybe Jack. I already have yours."

„I don't want- you already have it?" This took him by surprise; he wasn't expecting one and didn't know how to react to it. „What is it?"

„I'm not going to _tell you,_ you spoiled child! December barely started, you're getting it on Christmas day like the rest of us!"

„Sorry, I just didn't think – I had no idea you'd get me something. I don't have anything for you yet." He suddenly became aware of how pathetic that probably sounds. „Why are you even doing this?"

„Because I want to, obviously. You're dear to me and you're getting a gift, and that's the end of it." She crossed her arms, trying to look strict, but he could see a blush creeping up her face, slowly and adorably. Erik couldn't help but smile at the sight.

„I'll just have to take this seriously, then. Is there anything you wish for specifically?"

„I don't really know – you don't actually _have to_ get me anything! But if you want to, I'll be happy, whatever you choose. It's the sentiment that counts, isn't it?"

„I suppose so." Was he brave enough to give her something that would show his _actual_ sentiment? He would have to think about it. Meanwhile, they needed to go. „You should hurry with that coffee. Jack is waiting for us. I need to give him the new papers, and you need to discuss finances with Tilyou."

„I'll be ready in a moment."

She won't, of course. Erik took some more time to enjoy this morning while she got dressed. She came out of her room just as he decided to try knocking, wearing a familiar fur hat.

„Hello again. I forgot you had that hat."

„I forgot where I put it, which is why it took so long. I haven't worn it since February", she looked into the window to fix her hair. _Maybe it's time I bought us a mirror._ „It's so strange, remembering when I last had it. We had just arrived, remember? Everything has changed so much."

„You're right. I haven't thought of it before. It's like a different lifetime."

„Yes. This city was so strange to me, _you_ were so strange to me, when I think about it, I completely forgot about that, these days I'm much happier and much less confused around you", she said quickly in one breath, hoping she wouldn't blush again, and turned around. „Alright, we can go."

Lately she had been planting subtle remarks like these often when she talked to him. Erik couldn't tell what she meant by them, but he savoured them just the same. Maybe he _could_ be a tiny bit more open as well, he decided. She was right: a year ago he couldn't have imagined this, the two of them as friends and her smiling at him so often. Times had indeed changed; it might be time for him to shift as well.

ooo

As the weather grew cold, the children grew jittery and tired. They wanted to be let home for the holidays; not to mention it was harder for them to get up for school on cold dark mornings. Alina could understand them. She had to think of new ways to make them interested, so she organized different activities – she made all the kids write little essays on how they celebrate seasonal holidays, and she took them on small trips around so they could play in the snow during the day and let out the extra energy. She wanted the school to have a choir, but they needed someone to lead it, someone to teach them and someone to arrange the songs. She realized Erik could probably write them down for her and arrange them, but she'd have to let someone else lead it. Since they were all very busy already, she'd have to put that on hold for now. Especially since some of the kids don't even have proper winter clothing. The school had to organize and get them some; everytime Alina would see a child shivering on the way to school she wanted to scream and break things. So she went door-to-door asking people to donate. She organized sales, and events in the school, to get enough old children's clothes so that they didn't have to freeze in class. She had to engage in several more arguments with her benefactors who seemed to think she was just demanding more and more nonsense from them, not realizing a child couldn't really learn to read and write if they're dying of whooping cough or tuberculosis. The results were not perfect, but they were something. The worst of winter would come after Christmas, after all. If she kept pressing people, she hoped they'd have enough by then. Alina thought the poor kids' parents would complain and get offended when she offered them spare clothing, but to her surprise they were mostly... to put it frankly, more people gave her teary hugs than she had ever expected them to. It was uncomfortable, sometimes, but Alina had to admit – she liked being appreciated for something she'd put a lot of effort into.

Jack closed his shop shortly after the first snowfall; tourists barely came this late in the year. He mostly stayed with them helping Erik or discussing nuances with Tilyou. The park was said to open in late spring; Jack was overseeing some of the work to make sure they were following Erik's instructions carefully. He showed Alina some of them – there was a whole attraction which was essentially a maze made of moving mirrors controlled by one hidden operator, and several other – obstacle courses, so to speak. He'd designed various buildings, and a Ferris wheel, and he'd added more mechanical toys, and instruments that play on their own. Alina was amazed.

„How did you learn to make this? When? This is... I don't know, I'm speechless. How are you so good at so many things?" she couldn't stop looking at them.

„I picked it up, here and there. I found blueprints of the Opera building, they kept them after it was made. I watched how they made things back at the circus because I had nothing better to do. Besides, I read a lot. I always have. I used to steal all the books I could find when I couldn't get them through normal means."

„This is incredible. You're very talented." She finally tore away from the plans to look at him.

„It's nothing. I just... learned. I had nothing to do." He fumbled a bit, adjusting his mask, scratching the back of his head.

„A lot of people have nothing to do, but they don't learn to make such amazing things. Give yourself some credit."Alina was beginning to realize she shouldn't insist on complimenting him too much because he seemed to be physically unable to accept it. _It still means something. We should tell him nice things more often. He doesn't seem to be aware at all._

ooo

 _Amelija,_

 _I'm writing to tell you two things – first of all, you won another bet. I'm not going to tell you which one, because I want you to suffer a little more before you find out._

 _Second, I want to wish you a merry Christmas. Today I woke up to first snow this season, and I thought of you. I'm sorry we can't spend this Christmas together – but I'll be making our traditional cookies so at least the Yankees will learn SOME proper culture. Bastards wouldn't know olive oil from lard and coffee from... whatever it is they drink, really. I miss real turkish coffee. I'll be making those little folded paper stars grandma taught us how to make – if I can still remember how we made them, of course. Pray for me._

 _I'm going to celebrate with some friends I've made here - I wish you could meet them, I think you'd like them. Erik is very Erik agreed to help me with the Christmas celebration and I fully intend to take advantage of him it. I'm inviting Yana as well – I hope her job moves from this standstill soon – and Jack, I have a feeling you'd love Jack, he reminds me a bit of you (by which I mean he has a big mouth and he's very annoying). We should arrange for you to come visit sometime when we I get a nicer house._

 _How are you doing? How are mama and tata? Send them my love if they're done ignoring me, but if they're not, just let them stew some more. I hope you'll have a nice Christmas this year; although I'd say it will be quite boring without me there to be snappy and inappropriate. Tell cousin Jelka I'm betting your hairpins on mama being the center of the first argument this year._

 _Love,_

 _Alina._

Alina definitely knew how to make the little folded paper stars. She knew how to make them, she just had to remember the steps. She'd done this a thousand times and she still forgets every year. _I don't know how to make them anymore. I_ _have to remember how to make them!_ She threw her hands in frustration, looking at the table filled with small strips of paper. Many of them were crumpled up or ripped, and others folded in unfinished star-shapes. Now she'd have to clean this all up.

„Do you need any help with that?" Erik offered from his side of the table, not looking up from his drawings.

„No, I just... we used to make them every year, and every year I forget how they're made and then I have to guess it step-by-step again. It's harder without mama and Amelija. I think Amelija actually knows by now." She stared at the paper stubbornly.

„You could just ask her."

„Yes, I could", she nodded, „but her answer won't arrive on time. I want to have some for Christmas."

„It doesn't matter that much. You can make other decorations, and I'm sure it'll still be lovely", he said absentmindedly.

„It does matter!" the stupid paper strips were infuriating to look at. „It matters, because we all used to make them together, and now they're all thousands of miles away and I have to make them so I don't forget!" she felt her vision getting blurry.

He looked up for the first time. „So you don't forget?"

„So I don't forget what we did! No-one here... on this backwards continent does it the same way! I know there are Croats here but I'm not around them much! They have different habits, and different faces, and no-one here knows how to make paper stars! And now I can't just go back and ask how exactly we did it!"

„Do you want to? Go back?"

Alina sighed. „No. I just want to remember where I came from. What these holidays used to mean to me and people in my hometown. I don't want to forget who I am. And these... things, these traditions, have always been important to Amelija, and... I miss her, that's all. I miss them all."

He was looking at her, but once again Alina couldn't tell what he was thinking through the goddamn mask.

„What else did you make? Aside from the stars?"

„We would put a wreath on the table with four candles, and light one each Sunday", she started to remember. Erik noticed her eyes glinted slightly. „And we'd plant wheat on st. Lucy, and then it would grow by Christmas. And we'd put a big fir branch somewhere in the living room and decorate it, because no-one wanted to bother chopping down a tree. And we'd sing a lot, Christmas songs and whatnot. Amelija loves to sing. We both do", she concluded, smiling.

„How do you say 'Merry Christmas' in Croatian?"

„ _Sretan Božić."_

He repeated it back, only semi-horribly.

„That's not bad", she laughed in surprise, „ You have a good ear for languages. Maybe that's why you learned English so fast."

„I wasn't that bad at English to begin with", he shrugged. „I had never spoken it, but I could understand it, and read it. I taught myself a little. I would say my problem wasn't speaking English, so much as speaking in general."

„What do you mean?" Alina asked, confused. „You speak just fine. Always have."

„And yet, when we met, I barely spoke to anyone at all."

„That's true.", she nodded, recalling it. „I thought it was just a preference. But you seemed... withdrawn. And miserable."

He leaned back, scratching his chin. „You're not wrong. I just don't have the habit to make contact with people. I always dealt with things on my own. When I met Antoinette I didn't speak at all, even though I knew how, because I didn't think I would gain anything from it."

„Oh. I can't really imagine being like that. I nag people wherever I go."

„ _That_ I've noticed." One corner of his mouth twitched upwards. „It doesn't bother me that much, not speaking French. I only spoke to Antoinette anyway. But someone like you who talks all the time, must be suffering."

„Thank you very much." _Arse._

„You can teach me some Croatian, if you want, and those songs you mentioned; and I can teach you some French. Would that make this backwards continent seem friendlier to you?"

„But Croatian is a nightmare to learn. Why would you want that?" Alina frowned.

„I don't have to. I just thought it might mean something to you." he leaned forward again, taking his pencil. „Forget I said it."

„It would! Yes!" _why are you so sensitive?_ „If you want to. It would be nice. It would be as though I'm... keeping my family's traditions, but going forward instead of back. Building new customs upon old ones."

„I had that in mind, yes." He squinted at her. „I'll help you with all this, if it means something to you. But stop forcing me to eat, it's annoying."

„Forcing people to eat is the most important of Slavic holiday traditions, Erik. It's the only way we know how to tell someone we love them", she blurted out. _In any other context, this would be hilarious. It's still kind of hilarious, if you forget how mortifying it is._

He was just staring at her, wide-eyed. Alina felt her face suddenly getting very hot. _I need a distraction before I spontaneously combust._

„That is, my mother always forces people to eat and always makes too much of everything and then it's a whole competition with our aunts in who will spoil their guests the most and I think I remember how to make these stars, I've been folding them the wrong way, Amelija is right-handed so she does it differently, I'll just have to flip them if I do them with my left." She fiddled stubbornly with the paper in her hand, hoping she'd get a papercut and bleed out to death.

He was still staring at her. _Stop it stop it stop it –_

„So, in any case, uh, what do people in France do to celebrate Christmas?"

He blinked. „I wouldn't know. I lived alone. Giry would visit sometimes and bring me gifts, but that is all."

„I'll just assimilate you into my family, then. You're now one of us. You're welcome to make the paper stars and eat the cookies." _This is not making the situation less mortifying just close your mouth you stupid –_

For whatever insane reason, Erik actually took some paper and started folding it.

„You'll have to show me what you're doing. I'm left-handed as well and this is all wrong."

ooo

The next morning Alina woke up and entered the kitchen to find dozens of paper stars; on the counter, hanging from the ceiling, somehow attached to the walls, with a small pile on the table as well.

And in the middle of the pile, Erik was sleeping in a chair, his head on the table and buried in his arms.

A wave of affection washed over Alina and she stopped for a moment to appreciate the scene. His thin shoulders were moving slightly with his breathing, his hair messy and disheveled. _It's much too cold this morning for you to be sleeping covered only in that shirt._

 _I don't see him like this often_ , Alina realized. He was either very controlled or let himself go when something horrible happened (though Alina was willing to bet he was still controlling himself when she was around on those occasions). But right now, he was just relaxed. Peaceful. When was the last time he slept peacefully? Alina had no idea, but right now he was sleeping like a child with his head in his arms, surrounded by paper stars. It was an unimaginably sweet scene. She could not tear her eyes from him. _When we met, I thought you were frightening. How strange._

Alina didn't want to wake him, but she didn't want him to freeze either, so she took the blanket from her bed and lightly lowered it over his shoulders. He stirred a little; she worried he might wake up seeing as he was such a light sleeper. But to her surprise, he settled down and pulled the blanket more tightly around himself. She reached out, automatically, to lightly stroke his back.

That did wake him up; his head jerked up and he looked at her, half-asleep and half-alarmed. He didn't pull away, just stared at her with his eyes wide under the mask and his hair disheveled; completely still and stiff as a board.

Alina then did something she hadn't done in years: she acted on a momentary impulse, not thinking about consequences of her actions. His mask was slightly shifted, exposing a thin strip of visible skin on his temple between the mask and his hairline. Reaching out, Alina lowered her head a little more and lightly brushed her lips against the bare skin. He moved away a tiny bit at first and she half-expected him to flinch and back away; but he just sat there, still completely stiff, his eyes following her intently.

She backed away, and Erik still hadn't moved at all. He appeared to be completely shocked by her actions; wide-eyed with his mouth slightly open. She tried to study his expression to see how he felt, but he didn't look displeased by this. Just surprised. The silence and the stillness were so absolute that she could feel her heartbeat drumming in her ears and see his breath growing quicker and more frantic.

Then Alina did something even more reckless.

She bent her head once more, this time brushing her lips against his, leaving them there for just a second. The mask was right above his mouth and she could feel the edge of it, but his bare lips felt surprisingly soft and warm, even though he wasn't moving at all. He didn't return the kiss so she backed away slowly and straightened herself, feeling somewhat embarrassed. Rejected, even. _I may have overstepped a line. This may have been too soon. I wasn't thinking._

As she straightened back up, he slowly brought up his hand to his lips, as if he was checking if it really happened. He kept still for another moment, then stood up in one swift and panicked movement, leaned in toward her and, gripping her shoulders with his hands, kissed her back.

Alina's head swirled a little. She forgot how intense he was, and, well, how tall. He was suddenly towering over her and leaning down to reach her; kissing her clumsily and frantically. She needed to steady herself so she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close. This made him less panicked, but apparently no less intense. Alina could feel her drumming heartbeat and his raspy breathing, and his mouth clashing with hers, and his hands wrapped around her back and holding on for dear life, and it all became a blur of sensations so overwhelming she forgot about everything else for a moment.

When he finally pulled away she felt like she'd crashed on the ground from a very high cliff. Erik looked like he was expecting something horrifying to happen now, staring at her in shock and alarm. Alina realized she only had little time before he opened his mouth to say some complete nonsense and ruined this moment. She forced herself to think quickly even though there was nothing but thick fog where her mind should be. Very thick, happy fog. She simply did the fog's bidding and wrapped her arms around his back, hugging him tightly, and buried her face in his shoulder. He followed and held his own arms around her lightly.

"Good morning. I see you've been busy last night." She said, purposely making her voice quiet and gentle, so he hopefully wouldn't get paranoid.

He was silent.

"Can you explain to me _how_ you made several thousand of these in one night?"

"Fifty-three", he whispered in a strangely weak, high voice.

"That's too many. You'll go blind."

"Apparently, I've gone mad instead."

Alina pulled away to face him. He was calmer now, but still nervous. She could understand that. This whole morning was overwhelming to her as well. But he was looking at her sadly now, as though he was already resigned to her fainting or screaming. Or disappearing into thin air, it seemed.

She couldn't help but smile. "I'm unfamiliar with this kind of madness, but it's very pleasant. I might not want you to get better, how unprofessional of me."

Erik tried to laugh and choked a little. "Isn't that exactly what a hallucination would say?"

It was her turn to laugh now. "Fair point." She could feel him relaxing a little.

He shook his head. "Forgive me. This all feels unreal." It didn't seem to him like she was scared, or disgusted, or anything like that, but he was still worried. "Are you alright? Did I -"

"I am perfectly fine", she interrupted before she could find out what he thought he'd done. _I can only do this right if I'm not a coward. So I should act like… not a coward._ "I have to admit I've been wishing for this for some time", she felt her cheeks getting hot.

What followed had to be the longest embarrassed silence of her entire life.

"Are _you_ alright?" she asked, unsure what to think about his shocked staring.

"I'm…"

A loud knock at the door startled them both, and they automatically let go.

Yana burst in with loud enthusiasm untypical for her, and smiled mischievously when she saw them. "Hello, Alina. Did you settle what was bothering you?"

Alina couldn't think of a real answer, but like the look she and Erik exchanged was enough for Yana to figure it out. She decided not to comment on anything for now.

"I have good news. One of the bakers is sick, and they need someone to fill in, and I offered to do it. This might be a good chance for me."

ooo

Erik was walking on clouds; his head was made of cotton and fog. Everything was soft. He couldn't find other words for it. He felt as though every part of his body that Alina had touched has shedded its skin and exposed raw flesh underneath; he could still feel her lips on his.

Yana came in and started talking to Alina and he couldn't hear a damned thing. The only thing he could do was sit by the table and pretend, pathetically, that everything was normal.

From what he could gather they were talking about Yana's work. This was a topic he was usually very invested in; he wished her to be happy and he'd talked to her several times about ways for her to move upward and get what she wanted. She'd been very stubborn in refusing anyone's help and doing this on her own.

Today he was too distracted by the soft cotton and stupidity in his head to listen. Yana noticed it, her eyes darting from Alina to Erik and back.

Outside, snow started to fall in large, sluggish flakes, mirroring the white clouds in Erik's head. He decided this might be an opportunity to get a moment alone and clear his mind.

„It looks like we're about to have a very cold day. I'll go get some more wood." Alina's eyes followed him as he got up. „Don't mind me, I'll be right back. I'm sure you have some catching up to do." He wrapped his scarf around his head and neck and put on his cloak. They were still hesitant, but Yana seemed to have caught on so she just kept talking until Alina relaxed as well.

Erik exhaled for the first time as he stepped finally outside, into the silent, blinding white. He let out a long, slow breath and some of the fog in his mind escaped, turning into white mist as it exits his mouth.

As his mind cleared a bit, he started to panic, walking in circles. _What am I doing? What is going on? More importantly, what should I do now? Why did she do that? Why did I do that? What does she want from me? Is she that delusional to not see who I am? Do I have the strength to tell her the truth?_

He forced himself to walk in a straight line, away from the house.

 _Start from the beginning._ The only woman that had ever kissed Erik until now made her disgust and contempt for him very clear. There was no doubt as to why she'd done it and he had sworn to himself he'd never end up in that situation again. It was enough to know he'd never get that kind of affection from someone; getting a twisted mockery of what he wanted to remind him of what he deserved – no, that was too much.

But Alina had nothing to gain from this. He was not keeping her here. He'd made it very clear to her, for this very reason, that she could leave at any time, that she owed nothing to him, that he expect nothing from her. Of course, the truth was that while he _expected_ nothing from her, he also _wished_ for great many things, but he had no intention of revealing that openly to her.

 _This is insane. I'm a deformed, disfigured mockery of a man. She knows what's under the mask. There is no chance she – anyone – would just get over that so easily. This is not a love story. This is not „Pride and Prejudice" and I am in no way just a misunderstood complex soul that will turn out to be a perfectly normal, respectable man as soon as she digs deeper –_

But she might not know that. He felt physical pain in his chest at the thought of that possibility. _How could I have let her think that? Am I really that incorrigible in my pathetic need to make someone believe I'm the kind of man I want to be?_

But she'd known him for a year now. How deluded could she be? He had been infinitely more open with her than he intended to.

 _But she doesn't know everything._

 _Does she have to?_

 _She would want to._

 _She wouldn't stay another day if she did know._

 _Exactly._

He stopped walking, realizing he'd reached the shore. _Can I just throw myself into the sea and die knowing the last thing I did was kiss a beautiful woman? That doesn't sound half bad._

Or he could just go back.

How could he face her now? He had no courage to tell her she was wrong about him. He had no idea what to do if he decided not to tell her.

He felt his head spinning again. He would have to force himself to be rational. He turned around and started walking again.

A decade ago, on a day like this, Antoinette taught Erik a lesson that had helped him several times in his life so far; the only catch was that he would usually forget it in the moments he needed it the most. But strangely, he remembered it now. At the time, he didn't realize why she wanted him to pretend to be something he was not; it was somewhat offensive to him. Only after several years did he realize _she_ wasn't pretending. She really thought he was some normal, untainted person. It was so unthinkable to Erik when they met, that she had to turn it into a game of pretend to have him believe it.

Lately, he had been doing the same with Alina to test how she'd react; he thought if he pretended he was normal and talked to her without fear and restraint that her reactions would betray her – that way he could see if she thought him a freak all along. Either Giry's game could predict her behavior, or _she_ was only pretending until now. It was a risky move, but he had to know.

To his surprise, the more daring and open his actions became, the more she reacted to them – the more openly he showed her that he cared about her, the more she returned that behavior to him. The whole game became incredibly... _addicting_.

When and where did the game end? Sometime last night, as Erik was going blind frantically making stupid paper stars by candlelight, he had realized he'd never in his life gone that far only to test a theory. He was doing this not to see if she would be happy with the gesture – he was doing it because he was _hoping_ she would be delighted by the gesture, and because he wanted desperately to see her delighted.

 _Well. It certainly produced a result._ It was as if something posessed him as soon as her lips touched him; he lost all will to pretend and play games and just acted on instinct, not even considering – forgetting, in fact, for a moment who she was and what he was. All he wanted was to get more of her.

Some of the delirious fog came back against his will, melting away some of the panic. _This was breathtaking. I want nothing more than to be able to touch her every day of my life._

The possibility, however small or unlikely or unrealistic, that she might want the same was too much for him to resist.

He stopped, realizing he was in front of the house again, not remembering how or when exactly he got there. He walked over to the front door, but couldn't yet bring himself to come in.

 _Is it really so bad if instead of confessing all my sins to her and watching her recoil in horror I try to start over and... Can I make myself into a normal man who isn't twisted to the bone, instead of just pretending I am? If she believes me to be, will that be enough for me to believe it too?_

 _No, it isn't._

 _Shut up. Shut up. Shut up_.

 _You're rationalizing your own selfish lies._

 _No. No. No. I'm trying not to ruin a small piece of happiness God has decided to grant me._

 _Nobody granted it to you. You just stole it, and now you'll ruin it just the same._

 _I won't! It's not the same! She kissed me first! I'm not forcing –_

The door opened, and Alina quickly stormed out dressed in her coat and hat, bumping into him with full force. They both stumbled, and Erik had to grab her arms to steady her.

„You're here!" She looked up at him, wide-eyed.

„I just went for a walk." he decided to hold her a tiny second longer, or until she shrugged him off.

„I was just going to look for you! I was worried!" She wasn't shrugging him off, it seemed.

„I'm sorry. There was really no need for that." He looked at her, trying to see if she was _attempting to_ shrug him off and he was missing it, but no, she wasn't.

„Stop running away all the time!" For a moment, Erik could see on her face a very familiar expression of insecurity. She was embarassed. Was she really afraid he'd run away without a word after kissing her? It was a thought so wild it would be more fitting coming from him.

Seeing her filled him again with warm, soft fog; pushing panic away for now. He decided to try his luck a little more and bent his head, barely brushing his lips against her forehead. „I will."

She took his hand and lead him back into warmth.

ooo

APPENDIX: Letters that arrived several days later.

 _Dear Erik,_

 _I know it's easy to mistake me for a silly old woman, but rest assured I'm just as sharp as I was ten years ago. You can't hide things from me and even if you're lying to yourself I can still see the truth, clear as day. Alina seems to be equally stubborn and the whole situation is, truthfully, very amusing. You're both so bad at hiding you're in love with each other that you might even realize it on your own, but since I dislike taking any chances in life, I'm telling you now. I'm absolutely certain you love Alina, and from her letters I'm absolutely certain she loves you just as much. By the time this reaches you, you might already know it. Don't you dare forget to tell me everything that happens._

 _I hope you will not let your head get the better of you in this; I'm aware you might be thinking you don't deserve anything good and knowing you, you'll probably have a very strong desire to ruin it all. While I can't do much from so far away, I'm writing to tell you as someone who knows everything about you – there is nothing you can think of that would make you unworthy of this. Please allow yourself to be happy. Alina will understand. Remember the pretend game we used to play? Allow yourself to believe it. It will all be well._

 _Merry Christmas, dear Erik. I wish you luck with all my heart._

 _Love,_

 _Antoinette._

 _Alina,_

 _I don't care about your rambling; just tell me if you've kissed already. If you haven't by the time this reaches you I will personally come and smack you both over the head. Merry Christmas._

 _Love,_

 _Amelija._

 _P.S. I'm betting Jelka's gloves you'll kiss him first._

END OF CHAPTER 7


	8. Loyalties

8\. Loyalties

Alina woke up early the next day – it was Monday, and she had to go to work. The sound of her door opening woke Erik up instantly every time, if he even slept that long. She tried to be quiet, but Erik doubted she could be _that_ quiet; he'll be damned if after thirty years anything catches him by surprise.

 _That's not true. Yesterday she did surprise me. What will our life be like now? I've never been in a situation remotely close to this. I have nothing to go by. How am I supposed to act?_

He had nothing to do today, he realized as he lay in bed looking at the ceiling. He'd handed in all he meant to do for the park and Jack had told him he'd handle the rest until the construction started after New Year's. Erik had no plans for what he'd do after, and given the… everything that happened yesterday he didn't even think about it until now.

Since he was already awake, he decided he might as well get up and wish her a good morning. He got dressed and put on the mask quickly before going out. He still had no clue how to act.

Alina was by the stove already, making coffee. She turned when she saw him, smiling.

"Come here. I can't move or this will explode."

He obediently walked up to her. "Good morning." He was unsure what to do – he wanted to hold her, but what if she changed her mind after yesterday? He wasn't too eager to find out. What if she just pushed him away? The possibility made him sick.

Alina leaned toward Erik, wrapping one arm around him while stirring with the other. "Good morning to you too." The wide, genuine smile she gave him melted some of his insecurity.

 _Does that mean I can do whatever I want?_

It meant _something_ at least _,_ he thought. He put his arm around her shoulders. "Classes today?"

 _I'm a proper Don Juan in my spare time, and I excel at talking to women._

"Yes. Thank God it's only one more week until I can lock the door for the holidays. You have no idea how impossible they get this time of year. They'd talk about anything other than the intended subject. Wait", she said, releasing him to pour coffee into two small cups. "I suppose you want some too? What are you doing today?"

"Nothing. I don't know. I might write."

"Write?" Alina took out some bread and started slicing it.

"Write music. I haven't written anything down in a while. I have some ideas."

"Can I hear it later?" Alina smiled. She loved hearing him play.

"I doubt it." She looked at him in surprise. "It's not violin music. It requires an orchestra, which I don't have."

"Oh. But if you _did_ have an entire orchestra…" Alina raised her eyebrows in question.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I don't have one, as it is. I'll play you the parts I can." Erik shrugged as she sat down by the table, and he thought for a moment before deciding to sit across her, as he had always done before.

"When are you coming back?" he said before he could stop himself. _I am very good at keeping women wanting as well. Not clingy at all. Desmond would be proud._

"The school finishes around two, but I have something to discuss with the principal later. I don't know. I'll try not to take too long", she replied. "If you have no other plans, we could have dinner together when I come back."

"You're inviting me to have dinner with you? Isn't that a bit backwards?" It was not as if he would refuse, but he would have liked to have a chance to invite her first.

It dawned on Erik he might have to be quicker around her, or one day she might ask him to marry her before he had the chance to do it himself. _Not likely, freak. Don't forget._

She squinted at him, somewhat annoyed. "Sorry. I just wanted to ask you, it didn't occur to me we had to follow proper decorum. You've noticed already I'm not very ladylike."

"I don't mind that. You just have to let me do something first, for a change." It actually made him feel a lot less uneasy knowing that she had no idea what she was doing either. Not to mention it was incredibly amusing to watch her blush when he pointed it out.

"Fine", she sighed. "Sorry."

"But I accept. I'll wait for you." _I absolutely hate waiting._

They spent the rest of the morning eating breakfast in relaxed silence. Alina put her hair into a bun, shoved her papers into a bag and wrapped a scarf around her face and neck while Erik sat and stared outside, lost in thought.

"Good luck with writing!" It jerked him back into reality. Alina was already standing by the door, holding her bag with a sparkle in her eyes, ready to go out. _She's so lovely,_ Erik thought for the thousandth time he'd seen her standing by the door in the morning, wishing him a good day as she would leave. Every time it happened, he wished he could just go up to her and –

He _could_ do that. He got up and walked to her, stopping right in front of her and lowering her scarf just a little bit from her face. He leaned to leave a light kiss right at the corner of her mouth, holding her cheek with his hand.

"Have a nice day."

She smiled and turned around, leaving with a little more skip in her step than usual.

ooo

The house was incredibly silent after Alina left. Erik usually enjoyed the peace and quiet, but today it was… awkward. Misplaced. He needed to distract himself. He pulled out his violin and started playing, but gave up after a short while because he couldn't focus. He couldn't draw, either. He didn't even try reading. In lack of other ideas, he just started cleaning – first, he tidied up all of his papers, then he folded all of his shirts, then he tided some more again, washed the dishes – _thank God I insisted we get decent plumbing as soon as possible_ , he thought to himself for the hundredth time – dusted every single horizontal surface he could find, and in the end, to feel a little less emasculated, he headed outside to chop some firewood. The repetitive movements and sounds of splicing logs calmed him down. He kept thinking about yesterday's events the entire time. He had thought having something this beautiful happen would make him _more_ inspired, but today it was just making him anxious. This was such a strange situation that nothing felt real. He'd have to get used to it before he could do anything else in his life, he thought.

 _Oh, but will I ever get used to it?_ He stopped every so often in the middle of his work, stuck in a daydream – remembering Alina's tender fingers, her soft skin and sweet smile. He shook his head, hoping she wouldn't come home to see him standing still and smiling to himself like a fool.

Yana interrupted him in the middle of woodcutting and daydreaming.

"Erik?"

Erik jumped a little, thankful that she couldn't guess what he was thinking. Yana was the only person he had ever met who was quiet enough to regularly sneak up on him, particularly when he was distracted like this.

"Hello", he turned around.

"You're home alone this week, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Could you stay with Pjotr, then? If you're not busy", she hurried, "I have some more shifts, in the kitchen instead of Eliza. She's sick. It will be a great chance for me. And Pjotr misses you."

"Of course. Anytime." Erik had to admit he actually missed Pjotr as well.

"No need for anytime", she waved her hands. "I'll be home at two. If you need to go somewhere, you can leave him with Svetlana."

Erik knew Svetlana; she lived nearby and spent a lot of time with Yana. She knew him too, and did her best to avoid him. _Annoying little woman._

 _I'll endure it._

"Alright. Just tell her about it. I don't want her to make a scene if I show up on her doorstep."

Yana grinned. "No scene. She won't dare."

"Is tomorrow alright? I have something to do today, and…" Erik trailed off. He had nothing to do until Alina came home, but he was too absent-minded to trust himself with a child, particularly one as full of energy as Pjotr.

"And someone to meet", Yana said. "How are you?"

"Why? I'm fine." _Why wouldn't I be? What do you know?_

She shrugged. "Good."

"Why?" Erik insisted.

"Because you're in love, and I think you're not taking it well", she laughed.

"How am I supposed to be taking it?"

"I don't know. Men never take it well. It's always something serious", Yana replied. "But you're my friend, so I have to ask."

"Well, I am fine." _I am not fine._

She gave him a look he couldn't really decipher. "I'm happy you listened to me."

"I didn't. She kissed me first." Yana was easy to talk to, Erik realized long ago. He didn't mind confiding in her; she seemed so far removed from the real world – like a fairy of some sort – that telling her almost anything felt safe. Like whispering your secrets to the stars, without fear of judgment or scrutiny.

"Oh, I knew she will. I didn't mean that. I just wanted you to let her", she said, pale fairy eyes flickering at him mischievously.

Alina was late. Two o'clock came and went, and she should have been back already. Erik waited, trying to be patient, but he couldn't focus on anything. _Why isn't she home?_ It normally took twenty minutes from the school to their house; Alina could cross the distance in fifteen. Three o'clock passed. It was half past four now, and Erik was mad with worry. _Where would she be?_

 _Did she run away?_

That was not probable. All of her things were still here. If she wanted to leave she could have just said so; she knew he couldn't go after her or stop her. It was likely she got delayed at school. Maybe she had a lot of work to do. She'd been late before, and Erik normally didn't ask her anything since he normally had a lot of work to do himself.

 _Did something happen?_

Also not probable. It was the middle of the day and she was capable of taking care of herself.

 _Why is she not home, then?_

There was no point in thinking about it anymore. She'll be back.

 _What else could I possibly think about? What if she needs me?_

 _Well then, I should just go look for her and stop this nonsense._ Erik hated going out in crowded places, he hated going out in the day, but he'd live. He'd bundle himself up until no-one could see a single inch of his skin and he could walk around a bit, just to be sure. He didn't have to get too close to the school, or anybody. If he couldn't find her, he could just go to Jack.

ooo

The freezing air cleared his mind somewhat, and it seemed as if he'd been somewhat irrational. Alina was probably fine. He was letting his paranoia get the better of him – although, now that he was out already, he might as well commit to it. He could always say he just wanted to walk home with her. _Wouldn't that be creepy? No, if a normal man did that, it would be romantic. Let's go with that._

As he approached the school, Erik realized he'd made a mistake. What was he thinking? There were so many people, mostly children, around that he'd much rather sink into shadows than stay there a minute longer. He was not going inside, and didn't want to get too close either, so he decided to just pick a secluded place to wait for her. The crowd of people leaving the building and walking around the street made him nervous. _Where are you? Why can't I find you?_

Suddenly, a female voice from somewhere ahead of him yelled, "This shouldn't be up to debate! This is a school for children, not for adults to look good!"

 _This was easier than I expected._

He moved closer to the voice, feeling less uneasy now that he had a direction and someone familiar at the end of the way. He spotted them in front of the school – he had to avoid a horde of children going the other way; luckily, the classes had ended so the crowd soon cleared a bit. Alina was talking loudly, waving her hands around and seemingly furious. Next to her was Jack, and another man was just leaving back inside, looking equally frustrated. Erik walked up to them to listen quietly. He didn't actually know what Alina had to talk to the principal about, but he had a feeling he was about to find out.

"I'm asking you to just be pragmatic for once –" Jack started, trying to sound calm.

"Pragmatic? _Pragmatic?_ You think it's pragmatic to kick a child out of school because we can't be bothered to deal with him?" Alina was decidedly _not_ trying to sound calm.

"We _have_ bothered to deal with him, and it didn't work! He's a disruption for everyone else, and other children are suffering!"

She fumed for a moment before continuing. "That's not going to work on me! I'm not casting a child away like that! Either the school is for everyone, or it's a mockery of its purpose!"

Jack threw his arms in the air exasperatedly, turning to Erik. "Has your darling always been this stubborn?"

"Yes, she's a nightmare sometimes", he replied. Jack grinned at him. Alina barely registered what he'd said, but she automatically started yelling at both of them.

"You're supposed to be on my side!"

"I absolutely am not supposed to do anything. Why am I involved in this?"

"Because it's the right thing to do!" She said, wide-eyed. Erik saw Jack in the corner of his eye, taking an annoyed breath to interrupt her, and sensed a disaster just a moment before it happened.

"You're being impertinent and unreasonable-"

"This school is his only chance to-"

Erik could _not_ stand people yelling in his vicinity for very long. He had to close his eyes, taking a deep breath and rubbing his temples before he might say or do something he'd regret just to make them stop. Alina took the cue and shut up immediately, Jack following.

"One by one, if you must", he said slowly.

"Alright", said Jack, taking the chance while Alina was gathering her thoughts, "They have a problematic boy in school and the principal wants to expel him. His grades are horrendous and he's a nuisance to other kids. Alina, on the other hand, is insisting to keep him. Insisting rather aggressively, might I add, and now I have to talk to one very upset school principal."

"Alright? Why?" he turned to her.

She'd had enough time to calm down, thank God, and she continued quietly, "The boy is severely abused at home. I'm afraid what will happen to him if he stops coming to school."

 _Oh._

Jack chimed in again. "Yes, there's a suspicion that he's abused, but he's now abusing other kids and we'd all really prefer to get their parents off our backs."

Alina puffed, irritated. "Suspicion? Have _you_ ever fallen down stairs and woken up with a bruise in the shape of a handprint around your neck? Or tried to light a furnace and ended up with burns that happen to look exactly like cigarette burns on your forearms?"

No, but he had often in his life told stupid lies to cover the real cause of his injuries; but that, he thought, wasn't important right now. "What do you normally do in these situations?" Erik asked, now curious.

"Nothing!" Alina shouted, on the verge of tears, "Nobody cares about kids like him! We can call the police, but they can't really do much. If he keeps acting out there's nothing we can do, because no one will want to deal with him! They sometimes send kids like him to special schools and juvenile homes, but he hasn't committed an actual crime and his parents don't care enough to get him help! It's all a circle of, of people pushing him away and him feeling abandoned and acting out to get noticed!"

"What would you do, then?"

"I don't know yet." She wiped a tear from her cheek before continuing. "But I'll think of something, and it's worth trying. We can't kick him out. He keeps coming every day; he never misses a single class. He argues and fights and gets in trouble, and he fails at everything, but he still comes."

"Maybe he has to", Jack chimed in. "Maybe that's why he's so angry all the time. His parents make him come even though he can't handle the schoolwork?"

"No, I don't think so", she shook her head. "If they did, they'd make the effort to follow his progress. They've never so much as signed a single thing, let alone showed up in school. No, they seem more like the type that would prefer to send him off to work somewhere. Besides, he _is_ competent enough to handle it, it's obvious." She turned to Jack. "Listen, I really, really need to try and help this child. If you can buy me some more time, I'll be eternally grateful. I promise I'll think of something, it doesn't hurt to try. Just tell them to postpone it. Please!"

Jack looked at her, then at Erik, then at her again. "You still have all the other children to deal with. Wouldn't you rather focus on other things?"

"Please, Jack. I'll try, and if it doesn't work, they can do whatever they want."

"It might turn out well", Erik offered. Everything about this was telling him it was a small chance it would turn out well, but he couldn't help but feel bad about the child. And for Alina, fighting a futile and most likely thankless battle for some outcast kid she barely knew. _Antoinette, is this how you felt? I'm sorry. It looks like trying to push back an avalanche with a rake._

Jack sighed. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you! Thank you!" she nearly jumped in excitement, but stopped herself when she remembered she was in her workplace. "Thank you, Jack! We'll think of something, you'll see!"

"Don't thank me yet. You put this job on your own shoulders." He shrugged. "Now, I've actually had enough of talking about work. Don't you two have somewhere to be? Your knight came all the way to your castle to pick you up. Show some gratitude."

Alina turned to Erik in surprise. "Right. Weren't you supposed to be home today?"

"I was. You were late."

"Sorry. I was busy. Principal Dowling is a hard person to talk to."

"Frankly", Jack chimed in again, "He's usually not, it's just that you're so incredibly, annoyingly arrogant with him."

"I am not! I just told him what I think!"

"Exactly. While I find it charming that you pay no mind to status and power of people around you, you'll have to be a bit more careful, as a twenty-five year old teacher talking to a forty year old man who happens to be your boss at the moment", Jack crossed his arms, looking at her sternly.

"I've been successful so far", she looked away, embarrassed.

"Oh, absolutely. You're a very successful manipulator until you get too angry, at which point you just throw all reason out the window and ramble furiously about what is _right_ and why people _have to_ do something. Nobody has to do anything. You have to convince them they _want_ to."

"Fine", she said quietly.

"Hey, if you can do it with kids, you can do it with adults too. They're the same, they just have longer arms", Jack said.

She chuckled. "Alright."

"Can we please go now?" Erik asked. This place was still loud and crowded and annoying.

"Go ahead", said Jack, "I'll go off to control _your_ damage." He pointed his finger at Alina.

"Sorry, Jack."

"I'll live", he grinned sharply. "You're like a dynamite explosion, Alina. You're the most effective person I've ever seen at what you do, but I do wish you had fewer collaterals. _And_ you're expensive." He waved his hand at them both before heading back inside the school. Erik put a hand to his mouth, trying not to laugh.

"What's so funny?" She asked him.

"That's a very accurate description." he straightened himself.

"Oh, is it? And which instrument of destruction would you compare yourself to?"

"Cyanide", Erik replied without missing a beat, smiling proudly. It's something he'd thought about.

"Why?"

"Because I'm toxic to people who try to contain me, and nobody notices me until it's too late."

"Yes. You're also very bitter, so that works", she narrowed her eyes at him.

 _Touché._

"Let's go home", she sighed. "Let's just have something to eat and relax. I had a long day."

They walked home in silence through the freshly fallen snow. Alina looked like someone walked over her; the skip in her step from this morning was replaced with a furrowed brow and slouching shoulders. She didn't even comment on the beautiful scene.

 _I should do something to comfort her._

They entered the house and she shrugged off her coat, sinking into the armchair and covering her face with her hands.

 _I really should think of something to comfort her._ He had no idea what, but he had to try, at least; he made some tea and sandwiches while she sulked, and brought them to her, pulling up a chair to sit next to her.

"What's wrong?" Erik tried his best to sound sympathetic.

"I'm a disaster, and I have no idea how to solve this situation", she said.

"You're not a disaster", he started slowly, trying to find the right words. "This didn't go as you planned, but it's nothing disastrous."

"The only reason they're putting up with me there is because they're afraid of Jack", Alina said, waving her hands around and swallowing back tears. It always perplexed Erik when she got into conflicts with such fury and conviction and collapsed in self-doubt as soon as they were over. He wondered what made her this way. _At least she's not silently hiding her face anymore._

"I don't think so. You've been there since the beginning. I think they're keeping you because you're very good at what you do, and you care about children. You're fighting because you care about this boy, even though clearly nobody else is bothered." he took a moment to think. "Even if you don't think of anything else to do with him, knowing that you fought for him will certainly make an impact on him. Trust me."

"I don't think they care about that. They want him to stop bothering others."

"But _you_ care about that, don't you?" He looked straight at her. "You've been stupidly idealistic and irrationally loyal to people since I've met you, and now you've offered to sacrifice your time and energy for some child you barely know. You absolutely do care about helping, even a little bit."

"I do", she looked at him angrily, "and it's not stupid!"

"Yes, it is. But it's admirable." _I'd rather look at my hands, actually._ "It's because of that stupidity that I'm alive. You're something rare and incredible, and you can change people's lives. Jack might be right that you need to adapt to the world around you to get better results, but I think that the same thing that gets you in trouble is what I admire the most about you. You truly do believe what you say. And it might be what changes people's minds in the end. It's what changed _my_ mind, when I met you."

 _Is it possible that I've made Alina speechless?_ She stared at him, somewhat shaken.

"That is the loveliest thing you could have said to me."

"I meant it", Erik shrugged.

Alina took her cup and took a sip, still looking at him intently. "Thank you."

"Alright."

"You've grown to be just as crucial as a pillar of support in my life as you claim I am in yours", she admitted quietly. "I feel better. I'll do my best in this mess."

 _Really?_ Erik couldn't remember if anyone had ever depended on him willingly in such a way. It was frightening, but at the same time he felt… needed. He didn't know what to say.

They sat in silence for a while, drinking tea. The distance between them was too big for Erik's taste, and he wanted to reach out to her, but had no idea how. Was this an inappropriate time?

"Can I kiss you now?" he said, regretting it as soon as it left his mouth.

She looked at him in confusion. "Of course you can. You can kiss me anytime, you don't have to ask."

"Pardon. I wasn't sure if the moment was right. I'm not really, uh, experienced with... social situations." That didn't help. He needed to stop rambling. "And I won't do it, if you decide you don't want it."

Alina was openly outraged now. "If I just suddenly change my mind? It doesn't work that way- listen, just kiss me already!"

That was explicit enough for him.

Setting aside his cup, Erik lowered himself off the chair until he was kneeling on the floor before her. She fumbled a little; Erik realized this was probably not a usual thing to do, but he didn't care. He took her hand and lightly nudged her toward him, stopping her just as she got to the edge of the armchair, cupping her face with his free hand as he reached to kiss her.

Erik's head emptied once again and only warmth remained. Softness and warmth were sensations he'd grown resigned to live without, never expecting he'd one day experience an abundance of both. They would kick him out of his orbit every time; he was not sure if he could ever get used to this.

He decided to pull away before he got a little too warm.

Alina remained close to his face; looking at Erik the way no one had ever looked at him before. She ran her thumb along his jaw, and he flinched as she brushed against the edge of the mask.

"What did I do?"

"Nothing, just", he shrugged, embarrassed. "Don't take it off."

"I'm careful", she said. "Trust me. I won't do that if you don't want me to."

Erik nodded, relaxing a little. Her fingers started tracing all over his face, then running through his hair only to go back and stroke his cheeks lightly. He could barely feel it though the leather, but he didn't care.

"But if you did want me to, I'd gladly do it", she said, looking straight into his eyes.

 _That may even be true, but it's not something I want to think about right now._ _I'd rather enjoy this moment as it is, in its unbelievably beautiful simplicity._

Erik decided he'd already thrown all pretense of dignity out the window, so he might as well do as he pleased; he lowered his head to rest on her lap. She didn't seem to mind, as her fingers continued running along his face and gently stroking his hair. His heartbeat slowly returned to normal.

ooo

Jack entered the school furiously, going straight to the principal's office.

Alina, God damn her. She knew better than this; he would never have bothered associating himself with someone stupid and she was absolutely not stupid. It was partially his fault for letting her continue too long. If you let people talk long enough, they'll bury themselves every time. It was a fact Alina knew as well, but alas, she forgot it too often. _Young people. Always so eager to be heard._

He went upstairs, carefully collecting his thoughts. He noticed the school was in a much better state than when he first picked out this building; it was built on sturdy foundations and now that they've replaced all the old walls and put in new windows it was a perfectly fine establishment, on par with public schools in New York. Even if it was a bit ugly. It had that grey, depressing factory look poor schools had; where everything is in a more or less working condition, but nothing is particularly new or pretty. The bare essentials are there, but everybody is too overworked and overstressed to bother with details and embellishments. Jack knew the look well. He went to one of those schools himself.

 _What is actually better for this school?_ That was a good question. _What is actually better for us?_ That was an even better question, and Jack didn't have an answer to either of those. Alina would blindly insist on getting her way because she saw a kid in trouble and suddenly nothing else mattered. She was normally very calculated and composed and paired with her fearless efficiency it was a winning combination; this sudden switch to irrationality that turned whenever something tickled her sympathy was the only thing that prevented her from ever being a truly remarkable business associate.

Although it seemed to be the very thing that led her to him, so there was that. It also seemed to have something to do with the fact her mysterious knight kept himself under control; Jack had seen that kind of seething, barely-concealed instability before and was honestly quite impressed by how well it was being repressed. And _he_ has been incredibly useful; a real goldmine. Erik was the source of ideas that Jack turned into money, and Alina kept him on the right side of the thin line between genius and insanity. It would be wise not to let her down or this whole house of cards might crumple. Was it wise to work with them, then? They seemed to him unstable and immature, and he wanted nothing more than stability and some _goddamn peace and quiet while he makes a nice living for himself._ Ideals were nice and all; he'd had plenty of them and engaging hers has been refreshing so far. But not if it kept interfering with his plans.

 _On the other hand,_ Jack had to admit begrudgingly, _they're so incredibly amusing. Maybe even endearing. And I can always find someone else if they actually turn out to be useless._

He knocked on Dowling's door.

"I'm busy", a familiar voice replied through the wood.

"Good", he smiled his best smile as he entered. "No-one will bother us, then."

Stan looked up from his papers to stare at Jack. "Franklin. Your little protégée is giving me a headache. Please go away." _I'm so incredibly glad she's not here to get pissed at being called a little protégée,_ Jack thought. Stanley was a somewhat nervous man – small, round glasses, tidy moustache, neatly pressed suit. He was short, but athletic; always kept himself disciplined in all things. Always secretly afraid of the unknown and unpredictable, hidden behind a neat, composed mask. No wonder she was giving him a headache; she'd give him kidney stones soon enough.

Now that Alina was not around, Jack had some time to notice his surroundings. The room was a small, but airy space with only a desk, chair and large bookshelf on the wall. Everything was neat; there was a glass of water on the table - on a reasonable distance from any piece of paper. Jack would bet his own eyes that the books on the shelf are organized alphabetically.

He remembered Stan from when they were young. Always so eager to keep things in check. A bit of a prick, really – rigid and humourless – but ultimately couldn't stay mad at people for too long. Jack hoped this spinelessness would turn out to be a stable trait in Stan's adulthood.

"Ah, isn't she? Imagine only the headaches _I_ get." Jack winked. "I'm here to solve our problem, Stanley." He sat comfortably on the empty chair across from Stan before he had a chance to stop him. "From what I've gathered, she's rather wilful lately. Is Tilyou the one keeping her here?"

Stan sighed. "Yes. I wonder what she did to get this far. And now she has all these _ideas_ about how I should run my own school. Insufferable. I never thought I'd say this, but maybe we should have kept women at home."

"Ah, I might agree. Sadly, I can only imagine what she did to get here; good old George either keeps his honeys secret, or she has something other on him. I bet she isn't even that good; you can always recognize the ones that climb through _special_ means. Always more attitude than work", Jack waved his hand in pretend frustration.

Stan looked at him suspiciously. He may have been too obvious. "Actually, Franklin, she's rather remarkable on the outside. I thought you knew this. Her children are successful and well-behaved for the most part. We don't have trouble with her classes."

"Not surprising. I bet George arranged for her to get the best classes."

Stan sighed. "He did."

"How does she even have a say in this matter, then? She wouldn't even know this kid, much less have worked with him. What kind of connections did she pull?" Jack feigned his annoyance with the kind of passion he rarely showed with genuine emotions. He could guess the answer, but he'd much rather hear it aloud.

Stan suddenly narrowed his eyes. "Actually, George _did_ put her in the best classes, and I heard he was pressed by someone unknown. That was before. We put her with small kids until she gets necessary qualifications to be an official teacher, but she's been infiltrating other classes. She offered to take children that other teachers kept sending outside, and made a special class for them. She stays after school thrice a week and gives them additional lessons to help them keep up, or takes them outside. Why the kids agree to that, I have no idea. None of them were eager to come to school before, and now they're here all the time. Including this little bastard."

"Oh, goddamn", Jack put his hand to his mouth in an impressive display of annoyance, concealing his smile. "And now you have to deal with them all? What a mess."

"Frankly", Stan finally admitted, "we do, but it's much quieter lately."

"Ah, but what kind of discipline is that? If a child won't behave, they need to be taught a lesson. Going to school is a privilege, not a right. What kind of message are you sending?"

Stan got up and walked around. "That's what I've been saying, but guess what? I've been talking to some people around New York. They're planning to introduce mandatory schooling until age 14 within the next few years, and apparently it means we can't kick those little insolent brats out! We'll have to put up with them soon enough or we'll face both public and legal consequences!"

Jack was convincingly appalled. "So you're saying the law is changing, and she's the only one you currently have in here who knows how to handle those kids?"

"Yes! She's costing me a fortune, what with all the projects and nonsense she pulls, but it seems that we need her to keep the others in check! She's the best we have when it comes to difficult and problematic kids! Frankly, if she left, I'm not surprised if other benefactors objected and not just Tilyou, because we'd have a lot more delinquency around!" Stan paused in the middle of his pacing, realizing what he'd just said.

"So you have to keep Boricevic in this school unless you want to unleash a whole lot of mess in a couple of years? Honestly, Stan, I don't envy you. I remember how you always hated mess and disobedience. This position is perfect for you; it keeps you on a healthy distance from it." Jack cracked his knuckles. Not to mention how useless and disposable Stan would be in a situation that he couldn't keep in control, but he felt like saying that out loud wasn't necessary. _If Alina had a lick of sense, she would let the chaos unfold on its own without getting on anyone's nerves and then climb the ladder after her bosses prove to be incompetent. It's a shame that she'd never think of that herself._ "So what of this kid, Walter Preston? He doesn't sound like an immigrant."

"No, he's from here. His parents are born American. They're just poor enough to live in a slum with the rest."

"A white kid, then?"

"Yes. Why?" Stan frowned with suspicion.

"I reckon that goes to his advantage, in the eyes of the public." Jack smiled.

"What are you saying, Franklin?" Stan was catching on, but he was still years behind him.

"I don't know. It just seemed to me that he would instil some sympathy and sorrow into the bleeding hearts of dear old ladies who read the newspaper if he was suddenly cast out, so miserable and problematic and misunderstood. Healthy American boy, not good enough for a school that puts up with those dirty immigrants." Jack studied his hand carefully, fearing he might burst into laughter if he looked at Stan's face. "It seems that our wilful little miss is on your side, really. The side of… peace and quiet, so to speak."

 _If you let people talk long enough, they'll bury themselves every time,_ Jack thought, heading home to have a nice hearty dinner. _Thank you, Stan. I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep doing this, but you've helped me make up my mind._

Goddamned Walter Preston better be a saint after Alina is finished with him.

ooo

 _Antoinette,_

 _I received your last letter. Thank you, but there was no need for that in the end. We managed to settle it amongst ourselves. I would have preferred to hear more about your life as well; I hope you're doing fine. Please write if you need anything. I read in the newspaper that the Opera is completely restored – are you back at work? I hope nobody blamed you for anything. As far as I can remember, I've destroyed any evidence of us being connected, aside from witnesses. If you wish, I could come back to destroy the witnesses as well._

 _I'm sorry for causing you all that trouble._

 _I took Alina to see Central Park because Jack told me it would be "irresistibly romantic" and since I'm not a particularly desirable suitor I thought I might at least try to be charming. We went in the evening when there weren't so many people around; it's so cold here that almost nobody notices me outside. I like winter – it shifts people's priorities to minding their own business._

 _For the record, Central Park is enormous and it looks exquisite at night, especially when it's buried in fresh snow and dimly lit by streetlamps. I'm enclosing a picture. Alina also looks exquisite when she's smiling in the light of streetlamps. I had a nice time._

 _What I didn't expect was that apparently Croatian people are everywhere; as we walked through the streets of Lower Manhattan Alina told me that there is a whole society of Croatian people in America **[1]**. She has recently been writing letters to them for advice on getting her citizenship and all the other benefits people get when they're proper members of society. I can't really imagine a country the size of a needle being such a strong immigrant current, but here they are. Knowing probability laws it's almost impossible that we'd run into any of them in a city this big. And yet, Alina managed to find a charcoal scribble on one of the skyscrapers – yes, they have skyscrapers in the city like in the picture, it's a bit unnerving, nothing should be that tall – that she says was definitely written in Serbo-Croatian. Probably Croatian, since Serbs write in Cyrillic. It said something like this:_

 _"OVDE NE UMEJU NI DA PIJU, A KAMOLI DA PEVAJU" **[2]**_

 _I have no clue what it means – maybe you know - but she laughed when she saw it, then for the whole evening and the next day. She still laughs if I try to ask her about it._

 _Take care,_

 _Erik._

* * *

[1]Croatian Federation, early name for Croatian Fraternal Union or _Hrvatska bratska zajednica_ , founded by Zdravko Mužina in 1893, in Philadelphia. A/N

[2] „[People] here can't even drink, let alone sing".


	9. Lessons

9\. Lessons

"What would make a child act so bizarrely?" Alina mused as she made dinner. Erik had hoped she would let him help, but she insisted to make it herself since he had cleaned the entire house. He settled down by the table to write a little, since the ticks and buzzes in his mind seemed to settle a little bit now that she was back.

"I don't know."

"Just say anything that comes to mind."

"Children are not rational", he said. "I can't really understand them most of the time – but, it seems to me as though he comes to school to avoid being at home."

"Obviously, yes. But why would he come to school? He only gets more scolding here, even if nobody abuses him. He could just skip and enjoy some peace and quiet."

It was very obvious to him why. "Being scolded is better than being forgotten."

She turned to him in thought. "I suspected so. But you see, my colleagues seem to think children are naturally stupid and bad, and we need to exorcize the devil out of them in order to raise them right and make them functioning members of society. So if we fail, it's not us, it's them." She cut carrots and potatoes into small cubes, and Erik wondered suddenly when he'd become so comfortable with somebody waving a knife in his presence. "I don't agree. Almost all children I've met wanted to be good. They want freedom, and they like to test us, but they crave our attention and praise more than anything. And if we give it to them, they suddenly find it very hard to disappoint us. This boy is a walking testimony that children reach out to adults even when they don't get much from them."

"Maybe."

"The argument itself, on a purely logical level, seems stupid to me", she continued. "If the Church says we were made in God's image, why would it also say that children are broken and need to be fixed? Would you make something broken, just to see if it would fix itself? Either God is bad, or people are born good. Everything else is just manipulation of the masses."

"What a daring statement", Erik said lazily, occupied by his own business. "The good people would be scandalized."

"So don't tell them", she said, with an obvious hint of laughter in her voice.

"Which one is it, then?" He lifted his gaze from his work, curious. "I was quite clearly born broken, and had to be fixed along the way. Maybe God is malevolent, or everything is created randomly? Maybe there is no God."

She looked back at him in shock. He had no idea blasphemy would upset her this much. "Alright, sorry. That was in poor taste", Erik lifted his hands in a peaceful gesture. "You can go on believing in a benevolent God. We'll say I was just an aberration."

She blinked. "But you're not _broken._ "

"I do seem to be patching up nicely", he chuckled.

"You're not _broken!_ There is nothing inherently _bad_ about you!" Alina felt a sort of desperation she sometimes felt around him when she was trying to prove something _obvious_ to a person who, clearly, had very different basic ideas of _obvious._

"Don't play dumb, please", Erik said. "Ideals are one thing, but blindly insisting on something untrue just hurts your credibility."

She blinked again. "If there was something inherently bad about you, wouldn't you be bad to people even when they're good to you?"

"I suppose."

"You're kind to me", she said, "and to Yana, and Piotr, and even Jack. And you very obviously love _teta_ Giry, who also thinks you're a decent human being."

"Like I said, I was patched up along the way. Giry's doing, actually. I'd say she beat the devil out of me, but it's more as if she coaxed it out with cookies and milk. Remarkable woman."

She stared at him in disbelief, shook her head and kept cutting. "It's a futile discussion. I don't think you're a child of devil, either way. Nobody is. It's a ridiculous notion."

She was turned away from him now, and for a brief second, he was thankful for it.

"Alina?" he called out quietly.

"Hm?"

"Even if I'm not a decent human being, or any kind of human being, it's worth trying to be when I'm around you."

ooo

"Miss Boricevic", principal Dowling came to Alina early on Tuesday, "I need to speak to you."

"Yes, sir?" she stood up to greet him, anxious. Jack had told her everything would be fine, but she didn't really know about his idea of _fine_.

"It has been brought to my attention that the Preston boy can be persuaded to show respect, if you are given some time with him. I trust that you won't disappoint me in this, as you have so adamantly insisted on keeping him here", he said coldly. Alina never did understand this stuck-up fellow, or why he even wanted to work in a school. He seemed unable to understand that children were not just smaller versions of adults, and was often frustrated at them; still, he was good at providing structure and rules, and he seemed to realize how important education was (even if his idea of who should get one was not entirely aligned with hers).

"Thank you, sir. I'll see him today after school, and then again several times a week. I'll try to make a plan for him, and if he fails to show any kind of progress then you may do with him as you please", Alina said, realizing a moment too late what she had said – Dowling could already do as he pleased, or so he thought, and it would be wiser if she didn't talk to him like he was on her level. "Sir. With respect. Thank you", she feebly tried to save it.

"Alright, miss Boricevic", he said, "I trust that you know what you're doing. I'll leave you to it, then."

"Thank you, sir", Alina nodded as he left.

Finally, she could grade the homework in some peace and quiet. She sat down at her desk to get started. She was actually looking forward to it, because she had told kids to write as they pleased, about anything they wished, and she really wanted to see what they'd come up with.

Alina liked giving the kids creative tasks to do, if only to see how they would respond when she presented no clear right and wrong answers. It confused them somewhat, but she wasn't going to fail anyone on an assignment like this, so they were slowly coming out of their shells.

Girls were harder to coax out of their shell than boys. They were, for the most part, very good at determining what adults expected of them, and what they had to do to be considered "good kids". Once Alina put them in a situation like this, they would still continue making stuff they thought she wanted to read, instead of the stuff they wanted to _write. For a while, at least. Maybe they could be convinced. Some of these girls are quite talented._ Alina moved quickly through the papers until there was only one left to grade.

She stared at Walt's homework, trying to hold back laughter.

The assignment was to compose a poem, and good God, compose he did. The handwriting was horrendous, the spelling as well. Walter did his homework so rarely that she was honestly surprised when he handed it in. She was certain that he knew how to read and write, but he seemed to be on such a low level that it may have as well been written by a seven-year-old. Not particularly talented seven-year-old. Was this the same kid? He had a great vocabulary, a quick sharp tongue that got him in trouble all the time; not to mention he was surprisingly good at math.

An idea formed in the back of Alina's head as she tried to decipher this messy, blotchy pile of nonsense.

Not to mention that the language was decidedly _not_ appropriate for any kind of school context; if anyone but her saw this, he'd be kicked out so hard he might end up in California. Other than that, the poem was hilarious – it was about Sunday school, and while blasphemous and rude, Alina couldn't stop laughing at his choice of words and poetic figures; the comparisons and wordplays were – well, it was beautiful, and it was disgusting. Alina wished she could keep it to herself and frame it on her wall. At the same time, she wished to never subject anyone with a weak heart to this kind of nonsense. Her colleagues thought disobedience was akin to a sin; Alina couldn't help but feel, ever since she had started working with children that it was simply a display of character. She liked children who showed her they had their own mind – within reasonable means, that is.

 _Twain would be proud of this little brat_.

Alina graded Walter's paper with the only grade she thought fitting, snickering to herself. Right on time, too, because the classes were about to start. Kids poured in and took their seats, chattering and squeaking with their chairs.

The little _twat_ stared at her with such a smug expression while she was handing back graded homework that she almost started laughing again. _Goddamn kids. When you're twelve years old, it's easy to think you're the most controversial thing to ever walk this Earth._

 _Isn't that somewhat unfair of me? I know someone who's near thirty and still thinks he's the most controversial thing to ever walk this Earth._

"Here you go, Walt. Highest grade."

At least it shook him up a little bit when he saw. He stared up at her.

"Congratulations. It's some good quality poetry, although it took me a while to decipher your handwriting. Have you been reading Voltaire for inspiration?"

Walt narrowed his eyes at the teacher.

"I'll have to take it back for now" Alina continued, "since I can't really have you showing it around, but your grade still stands. Please see me after class and you can have it back. Principal Dowling wishes me to discuss something else with you as well."

He nodded, to her surprise. Walter didn't just agree to things, usually.

Alina spent the rest of the classes trying to appear normal, anticipating her meeting with Walt with more anxiety than she felt before meeting Dowling. She'd say Walt felt the same, as he was unusually quiet for the rest of the day.

Once the bell rang for the last time, all the students scurried out in the same cloud of noise and fury; that is, all except for one. Walt sat stubbornly in his seat, looking at Alina. Alina sat stubbornly in her own seat, looking back at him.

Alina realized she was acting stupid. This was not a battle she had to win. It was just a kid who needed help. Maybe a friend for a change, not an enemy. She was the adult here, so she should be the one to take the step.

"How are you, Walt?" she said, smiling slightly.

He raised his eyebrows at her.

"I did like your poem, I have to say. It was very clever. Where did you get the idea for it?"

"I hate going to church."

"Yes, you explained that rather eloquently already."

He smiled back. "I thought it would be funny. And I wanted to see Teacher Barnwell's face."

Oh, right. He used to be in Emily Barnwell's class before he was transferred to Alina- well, before he made her cry and she had to jump in and take him to her own. _Poor, dear Emily. She looks like the kind of person who absolutely loves going to Sunday school._

"I'm sorry to disappoint you. I suppose your high grade will make up for the scandal I've so cruelly denied you."

"I don't care about grades."

Alina bowed her head to the side. _There is, in fact, a small percentage of kids who truly don't care, but I'll eat my own quill if this kid is one of them._ "Very well. If it's exposure you want, I can arrange to have your poem – poems, if you have more - published. On a small scale, of course, but it will certainly gather attention. Maybe the last page of the local newspaper. With the funnies." She was only half joking. Walt would be popular in some of the satirical papers, she thought.

Well, _that_ shook him. "You're trying to expel me? That's what the principal wants, isn't it? If he finds out, he'll kick me out. You could have just failed me, it's not such a big deal, but you want to get rid of me- you know what, do it! I don't care! You can't control me!"

 _What?_ "What? No. No, no. Why the h- what gave you that idea? I just had a very long talk with Mr Dowling about how you _shouldn't_ be expelled-" _I need to stop before I say too much in front of this kid_ – "I don't want you out of the school. I volunteered to give you some private lessons after class to help you catch up with the other kids, because I think you have potential. I want you to start doing things I know you're capable of doing. I know you're a smart kid, and I want you to start believing it too."

He scoffed. "Why would I? In a few years my old man will pull me out of here anyway if he decides we need the money. You think all this fancy poetry will help me in a coal mine?"

Well, that was a fair point. "Alright. But if you prove yourself and enough prominent people notice you, you might end up getting a scholarship. Isn't that worth a try?"

Alina felt strange mentioning this to a kid who was so far failing almost all classes. Did she really have proof that he was gifted, or was it just a hunch? Or perhaps wishful thinking?

"Like hell!" Walter almost yelled. Something must have upset him, because he didn't even notice he started cursing. "Are you making fun of me? Do I look like one of those posh momma's boys with scholarships and little bowties? I'll be lucky if I'm ever able to read my own name in the first try! I can't write without a headache, because the letters keep switching and jumbling up!"

A puzzle fell into place in Alina's head, almost audibly.

"Can you repeat that?" she leaned forward, looking at him. Walt felt terrified; he had only seen her staring at him so intently when he'd done something _really_ wrong. He definitely said more than he intended, and more than he should.

"I apologize for-"

"I don't care about etiquette right now. Is it true?"

"What?"

"Letters change in front of your eyes? That's why you never want to read and write?"

Walter made no effort to hide his contempt for her. "No."

"You're lying. If it didn't happen, you wouldn't know it's even possible. It's not that common."

"So? You're gonna put me in the loony bin?"

"No." She leaned back, looking at him. "It's not dangerous, you know. It won't get worse. It might get better with practice, actually. But you know the letters, right? You know what each individual letter means?"

"Yes, I'm not stupid."

"Hey, I don't think you are either way. So how bad is it? Describe it to me."

"No."

"Please? I won't tell anyone. I don't think you're crazy. It's just a – I don't know. Some people don't see colour, you know? And some people don't hear certain sounds. And some people have problems with reading or writing."

"I'm not a cripple."

"I don't think you're – look, I couldn't write for years myself, alright? I had terrible problems with it and everyone thought there was something wrong with me. They took me to a thousand teachers until my mother finally snapped and let me write with my left hand. People are not all the same."

"My left hand can't write, either."

"Yes, well", she sighed, "that would have been too easy. I'm afraid you'll struggle a bit more with this. But I have an idea."

"You can fix it?" he said carefully.

"I don't know. Maybe not. But if you agree to stay with me one hour every day after school to practice reading and writing, I can offer to base your grades in class mostly on oral exams. And when I call you to answer a question, I'll read it out first. How's that for a start?"

"Why?"

"I told you. I'd like you to do the things I think you're capable of doing. And, besides, if you don't, Dowling will expel you and I'll be immensely bored without your filthy poetry and rude comebacks." _And then I'll be forced to stay home if I want to hear someone sassing me._

He shrugged. "Alright. Beats being home all day. Or in a factory."

"You're a clever boy."

ooo

Over the following week, Erik settled into a comfortable routine. Even his anxiety started to dissipate, very slowly but noticeably.

He would spend mornings taking care of Piotr after Yana left for work; it kept him occupied so that his mind couldn't wander too far. Piotr was a wild boy; he was around four years old already and he had more energy than Erik ever thought a living being could have. There was nothing in the world he didn't want to see, hear, touch or taste. His unwavering enthusiasm brought a smile to Erik's face, and he notice proudly that Piotr could understand English – Alina had said something about children soaking up language like a sponge. Erik told him stories and made little toys to pass the time.

"Draw a horse!" he held up a piece of paper with some animals drawn on it.

"I have already. This is a horse." Erik pointed out.

"Again!"

He sighed.

"He's alone! He needs a friend!"

 _I think I can sense Alina's influence here._

"Alright, fine, more horses."

Piotr would often look at Erik when he drew and tried to mimic it. He looked at him all the time, actually, and whatever Erik did – draw, carve, play, anything – he did it too. Erik used to find it unnerving, but he was used to it now.

"And a man here", Piotr pointed on the paper.

"Fine". Erik drew a man standing next to the horse, offering a carrot.

"No, like you."

"What?" he looked up at the boy.

"Draw him like you." he covered his face with his hands, peeking at Erik through his fingers.

 _A child this small is not smart enough to mock me_ , he reminded himself. „No. I don't want him to look like me."

„Why?"

„Because it's not a good thing."

„Why?"

„I won't answer that."

„Why?"

„Because you're too young."

„Why?"

Erik rolled his eyes. That was the one English word he wished he hadn't taught him.

„Are you sad?" Piotr asked, putting down his hands.

„No."

„You look sad."

„No, I don't. I look like a mask."

Piotr looked like he might cry at any moment.

„Alright, fine, I'll draw him a mask. But why do you want him to look like me?"

He shrugged. „I dunno. Can he have a violin, too?"

ooo

Alina took a long time to come home. Erik would usually go and wait for her at school – it had become something of a habit; she thought it was romantic and he was not inclined to tell her it was more for his sake than it was for hers – as he would go mad waiting for her at home.

On Friday, two days before Christmas, he waited for her in one of the more secluded parts of the school grounds, feeling less uneasy than only five days ago. He was getting used to this, he realized. He was not only barely visible, but the people who did notice him with her or Jack no longer flinched and stared at the sight of him.

 _I suppose that's what blending in means_.

As he stood there silently lost in thought, he noticed that all of the children had left already. Alina was working late again. It didn't matter; even when she worked late she always came home with him and spent the rest of the day in his company. Erik felt like asking for more would be pushing his luck.

Well, not all of the children had left. One boy, around twelve, was pacing around, whistling to himself and looking slightly bored. His clothes were old, oversized and tattered; although Erik supposed he might just be that small – he was unusually short, and very, very thin. His dark hair was cut very short and he wasn't wearing a hat; his face was completely ordinary aside from a pair of striking blue eyes. They were clever eyes, Erik realized, as the boy's gaze darted around the yard nervously. When he thought everyone had left, he took a rolled cigarette out of his pocket, along with a small matchbox, and promptly lit it up.

The boy noticed Erik and flinched a little, staring at him intently. He had no idea anyone could even see him. How did the kid know he was there? Was a twelve year old brat normally this good at sensing danger? Erik was growing annoyed by this little, _unnecessarily perceptive,_ goddamn delinquent who was staring at him shamelessly.

"Aren't you a little too young to be smoking?" Erik asked him. _I have no idea where that sentence came from. Who am I?_

He immediately turned from scared to annoyed as well. "And who are you, my dad?" he snapped.

"No, I'm the demon that eats bad children", Erik snapped back. _At least this sounds more like me._

The boy spread his arms, "So go ahead. Think you'll get a nice meal out of me?" he said, pointing to his small, thin, bony frame.

Erik narrowed his eyes at him. Was this maybe the boy Alina talked about? If so, he could tell why nobody wanted anything to do with him. The boy turned away from him, having lost interest, and continued pacing around the yard.

At that moment, Alina came out, calling after him.

"Walter? You're still here?" she walked up to him, not noticing Erik. To be fair, he _was_ hiding.

He turned to her, hiding the cigarette behind him and subtly dropping it, crushing it with his heel. _So you do have a weakness, you little twat. Good to know._ Walt walked up to her, trying to get out of Erik's earshot.

"Yes, miss." His expression was vastly different from when he talked to Erik. He looked at the ground, somewhat embarrassed.

"How come? You're free to go, I told you. Holidays just started." Alina smiled and reached out to pat his shoulder lightly. "What do you normally do for Christmas?"

He looked at her angrily, but then said something so quietly even Erik could barely hear him.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing." He looked at her defiantly again. "I normally avoid going home for Christmas."

 _There is not a chance in the universe that sentence won't upset Alina._ Erik knew her well; she would probably come home and cry about it later. But right now, her face wasn't giving away any of it. "Hmm", she said, "I suppose you're free, then, and I do desperately need someone to help me eat all these cakes my friend makes at the patisserie."

He seemed shocked by that. "You need what?"

"I'm treating you to some sweets, Walt. I won't tell anyone if you won't. Are you seriously going to miss this opportunity?" she raised her eyebrows at him.

"Uh…"

"No math involved. It's not a trick."

"Like I care about math", he said, "I could do math with my mouth full of sweets and my eyes closed!"

"And your hands tied behind your back?"

"What would I eat with, then?"

"I don't know. How creative can you get? Think of it as a challenge", she laughed. "So, are you coming? We just have to wait for my- uh, friend. He said he'd be here soon."

Walter looked embarrassed. "Alright. I don't have anything else to do right now anyway."

 _Oh hell no._ Erik walked up to them, trying to think of the last time he felt such strong and irrational hatred for a child. _I wish I really was a demon. That would solve this problem. God damn you, Alina, can't you stop picking up lost kittens for a moment?_ They both noticed him at the same time; Alina's face lit up while Walt filled with dread. Seeing him squirm was Erik's only small pleasure in all of this.

"It seems you're still busy", Erik turned to Alina, trying his best to conceal his annoyance. _I waited for you. This was our time._ "Do you want to meet later?"

"Oh, I'm not working", she said, turning to Walt. "I'm just taking this young man with us for some well-deserved sweets. He's done some extra work today after school, _and_ he's helped me put up some decorations. This is Walter. Walt, this is Erik."

"We've met", Erik said, looking at him. "Walter, you didn't tell me you were such a good student."

Walt's eyes were burning with the fury of a thousand suns. "You didn't ask, Mister Demon."

"Walt!" Alina said, "That's not nice."

"Sorry", he said through gritted teeth. Erik silently wished Walter would continue digging himself deeper.

"I'll let you have some cakes with your student", Erik turned to Alina again, "Meet me home later."

"But-"

"It's fine. Really", he waved his hand in what he really hoped was a peaceful gesture. "You can go. I have something to do anyway." _Something like punching walls in jealousy. Why am I like this? Oh, yes, because she has better things to do and we had goddamn plans –_

Alina looked at him suspiciously. "Alright. I'll see you in an hour or so."

Erik nodded. "Good. I might go to Yana. Walter, it was nice meeting you."

"You too, sir", he said. _He's picked up on the game. Clever kid._

ooo

Walt was altogether pissed off by the strange masked man who seemingly did his best to tease and annoy him. How did a prick like that get a woman like Teacher Alina? Why does he go around lurking in shadows, poking his nose everywhere and commenting everything with that condescending tone of voice? The best thing about his teacher was that she did none of that – she knew when to stop asking questions he didn't want to answer, and she didn't act condescending towards Walt even though everyone else thought he was stupid. But this _man_ was dangerous, he was sure of it. He had the kind of pent-up, barely concealed anger in him that Walt was infallible at noticing.

Perhaps it was like with his parents – his mother was a gentle, weak woman who never raised her voice, and his father was… the opposite. Walt felt a flash of anger at the thought of Teacher Alina getting the same treatment his mother got.

Except she didn't seem afraid of him at all, not to mention that she was far from _weak and gentle_ and occasionally treaded into _terrifying_. She greeted the strange man with joy instead of careful worry his mother showed whenever his father arrived home. That was the only thing that didn't fit. He remained silent for a while after the man left.

"Walter, is something wrong?" Teacher asked him, concerned.

"Nothing." They walked together toward the pastry shop. Walter knew the one; he passed by it often, but he never had any money to spend on sweets.

"Who is that man?" he asked in the end, unable to resist. "Why is he your friend?"

"Hmm?" She raised her eyebrows. "You don't like him?"

"No."

She looked ahead, seemingly in thought. "He became my friend because I helped him escape. People kept him locked up, wanted to hurt him. He's still a bit nervous about that."

Huh. The man was still a prick, but Walter knew all about being locked up and hurt, so he could understand why he would be angry.

Walter remained silent as they reached the shop. It was a small, warm-looking place; passing by it, one could make out voices of the workers talking in several languages he couldn't recognize. The front was entirely in glass, and through it Walt could see displayed cakes and cookies – all very colourful and embellished, stacked close to one another. The entire shop looked kitschy inside and out; he could make out the wallpaper inside with its intricate designs of roses, leaves and vertical stripes. On top of it, the store had Christmas decorations – green branches, red and white paper stars, little candles. The name of the store was written on the front, but when Walt tried to read it, his head started spinning. He decided not to bother with it. He was on a Christmas break, after all.

Teacher Alina walked confidently into the small pastry shop, holding the door for Walt. He suddenly became aware of his looks, his tattered clothes and the smell of tobacco on his fingers; he normally avoided these places where people looked at him like he was some kind of a bum, but the prospect of getting free cake was strong enough to keep him there at the moment.

Teacher walked up to the counter, through tables with people sitting and eating, and Walt followed.

"Good afternoon, madam", she said to the lady behind the counter.

"Good afternoon, miss." The chubby middle-aged woman looked at Walt with strict dark eyes. "Is your friend coming today?"

"No, madam. Change of plans. This young man is my student; he's getting a well-deserved reward for his good behaviour as of late. Now," she raised her voice slightly, a little too much in Walt's opinion, so that she was heard clearly through the small room, "is Yana Petrovna Charkashina[1] here today? You know I love her cakes the most."

"No, miss, she left already", the woman shifted her gaze from Walt, finally.

"What a shame! Yana makes the best cakes, I always say. When is her shift again?"

"Monday. We have some of hers from this morning. They're still fresh."

"Wonderful! She's a real asset to your shop", Alina said, in that slightly raised voice, smiling innocently. "I'll be sure to come on Monday again, then."

The dark-eyed woman looked at her with slight suspicion (or annoyance? Walt couldn't really tell), but said nothing.

"Then, madam, I would like a slice of apple pie", Teacher said, "and Walt, feel free to pick out whatever you like."

Walt would have found it easier to pick if he knew what any of them tasted like; he was hesitant to waste this rare opportunity eating something that wasn't absolutely delicious. He stared at the glass-encased display next to the counter and thought for a moment. He pondered if he might just break the glass and run away with everything; it was a tempting option.

"This one", he finally pointed at a piece of cake that looked like it might be delicious. It was made of chocolate, covered with thick whipped cream, with cherries on top. He hadn't seen it before.

"Which one, dear? I can't see what you're pointing out from here. Just read the label", the lady said, her voice softened considerably after she concluded he wouldn't steal something and run away.

"S..c…h…" _is it getting worse?_ He started to panic. He couldn't make it out at all. _What the hell?_

"The one beneath, dear. Those are German specialties. English names are below." _Oh._

Teacher looked at him encouragingly. Did she bring him here to test him? Didn't she promise it wasn't a trick? Walter was getting nervous, and squinted intently at the label. The letters were twitching and dancing around, resembling nonsense sticks and circles, but he managed to make it out. The silence was just starting to get deafening when he read it out.

"Black Forest Cake." Thank god. Teacher smiled, still looking at him silently.

"Coming right away, dear. You go ahead and sit", the lady said. "I suppose you won't mind if I put some extra cherries and cream on top?"

"Of course he won't, ma'am", teacher said, taking out her money. "put some extra chocolate chips on the side, as well. Young man needs his nutrition."

Alina paid, and gestured for Walter to sit by the only currently empty table. This shop seemed to be doing well, he thought. He couldn't remember it looking so packed this time last year; maybe it just didn't look packed from the outside. He hadn't exactly been inside until now.

"It's ' _Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte'_ in German", teacher said, smiling at him quietly. "Good choice. It's a new dessert, very popular back where I'm from."

"You're from Germany?" Walt asked, surprised. Most German immigrants he'd seen so far looked and sounded nothing like her.

"No, but I'm from the Austrian-Hungarian Empire, so I had to learn some German and Hungarian."

"I thought you were Polish", Walt admitted.

"I'm from a province called Croatia", her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she put her elbow on the table and rested one long finger on her temple. "It's a somewhat similar language. Pray tell, why exactly did you think so?"

Walt stared at her for a moment, petrified. He didn't like it when adults interrogated him like this. Some days they managed to surprise him; he would say too much and they would use the chance to turn it against him. Teacher Alina was not as stuck up as other adults he knew, but it was still probably wrong of him to speak to her so openly; Dowling would be at his neck if he offended her. Except lately Dowling seemed to be at her neck as well.

"I just did. Sorry."

"Walter", she said, "please tell me. I'm not tricking you, I never do. I'm just curious."

He thought for a moment. "Because of how you dress and talk."

"I don't really have an accent anymore. I lived in London for seven years."

"No, but when you say your name you say it like Polish and Russian kids do. You say 'r' differently sometimes." He thought some more. "I saw you talk to Nikolai one day when he was going back from work, and you understood him."

"Wouldn't it be logical to think I'm Russian, then?"

"Russians have three names. You have two."

She leaned back in her chair, looking at him with a piercing look she usually reserved for when he caused a mess. Walt wondered what he could have possibly said wrong _now._

"You're a very clever young man, do you know that?" she asked him. Walter considered running away before he could find out if she was being sarcastic, but the lady from the counter came at that moment, bringing his cake.

"Alright, Walter, dig in. It's a sin to talk while eating a cake this good", Alina winked at him.

Walter obeyed her order without question for the first time in his life. The cake was amazing – it was soft, and moist, and it had layers upon layers of spongy biscuit, cream and sour cherries. He finished it in a second, along with the extra chocolate chips and the cream he got on the side. He pondered licking the plate, but nobody else was doing it so he decided against it. He couldn't help staring at the crumbs longingly.

His teacher looked up from her own pie, having barely eaten half of it.

"Madame Urbina?" she called out. "It seems that this Kirschtorte isn't very filling. I'd say we give him some of Yana's medovik[2] and see if he can finish it with the same vigour."

"Are you sure? Medovik isn't terribly popular."

"Yes, I'm sure. One has to try new things occasionally, and Walter seems to be appreciative of Russian culture. Oh, and some juice for the young man, and coffee for me. Please."

Walter _did_ finish medovik with the same vigour, because it was cake, goddammit. It was very different from the last one – thick and creamy, and very, very sweet, with crunchy nuts inside. He felt somewhat guilty that he was using his teacher's good will like this; but he was not so stupid to turn down free stuff when it so happened to fall directly on his plate. Teacher finally caught up to him and finished hers; she smiled at him, sipping her dark coffee out of a delicate flowery cup. She looked like she was very used to sipping polite drinks out of delicate cups, unlike normally, when she looked like she was very used to scolding kids and standing for six hours at a time.

"Thank you for keeping me company, Walter" she smiled at him. "It was a pleasure talking to you. I'll see you after the holidays, but right now I have a very impatient friend waiting for me."

"You have to go?"

"Yes. I'll see you after New Year's. If you wish, you can come to school before that. I'll be there", she laughed.

Walter scoffed. "Like hell. What am I, some kind of suck-up?"

She winked at him again, grabbing her bag as they both stood up. "You're right. It would be completely out of character for you to come to school when you don't have to."

ooo

„Aren't _you_ in a foul mood", Yana remarked as she opened the door.

„A keen observation."

„Alina is busy saving the world?" she raised her eyebrow.

„One sad boy at a time, yes."

„It's nice of you to wait for her."

„It's not like I have a choice, right?" Erik almost opened the floodgates, but stopped himself at the last minute. „I won't – _forbid her_ to do what she wants. I'm not her captor." _But I'd really like to be higher on the priority list. I feel kind of trapped myself. I can't live without her – but can I live feeling this unstable all of the time?_

Yana gestured for him to sit. „Captor?"

„Someone who keeps you imprisoned. Trapped."

„I know what it means." She squinted at him. „Do _you?_ "

Erik had to laugh at the absurdity of that question.

„Dramatic." She rolled her eyes. „You're not a captor. The whole world is a problem she needs to solve, and she can't help it. But you're not a problem. That's why she needs you."

„What am I?" Erik felt he was quite similar to the problems she solved. _Maybe she'll move on to another problem after she thinks she's solved me._ It was a thought so terrifying he had to push it back immediately.

„Just a man. Someone to solve problems _with_ her." Yana smiled. „If you ask her, she might explain better."

„Thank you." Erik was actually one of the rare people who might understand why it's a lot to be considered 'just a man'. „How's your work?"

„Well, since you three keep insisting very loudly to eat only the cakes I make, in a few weeks I'll be either promoted or arrested." She laughed. „Other customers are getting curious and asking to try my sweets. Whose silly plan was it?"

„I don't remember. I think it was Jack. We all had different ideas, and this is the only thing we agreed on."

„What were the other ideas?" she asked with obvious curiosity.

„Do you want to hear the legal or illegal ones? It's best if you don't know too much, in case we do go through with some of them."

„Ha!" She said. „you're not going to kill my competition, are you?"

„I can neither confirm nor deny that", Erik smiled against his will.

„And the rest?"

„Alina was going to buy a large amount of your cakes and serve them on parent and teacher meetings, and to Tilyou and his workers, and tell them you made them. She might still do that, so be ready. Jack was simply going to fabricate a trend of buying Russian cakes as a luxury food on Coney Island as soon as tourists pour in around March. He might actually do that as well, now that I think of it. They both insisted the other one's idea wouldn't work."

„I think they would both work. It's smart." She winked. „I turned Alina down when she offered me help, because I want to do it by myself, so that no one can say I succeeded because of bribe or something like that. But these are clever ideas. You're all good friends."

„None of us were going to suggest that. Alina and Jack insist on doing things legally when they can, and I find bribery to be very inefficient when compared to, say, death threats."

„Yes, you're such a scary man. _Very_ scary." Her eyes flickered as she teased him.

„Did you know", she continued, „that Piotr is drawing men in masks all the time?"

„What?"

„I don't mind, I just want to know. Did you tell him to do it?"

„No, why would I? Do you think I _want_ to see that?"

„Well", she snickered, „I asked him why, and he said you showed him how to draw."

„I did. I taught him how to draw everything he asked me, and he asked me to draw myself, so I did. But I didn't tell him to do it. In fact, I told him it's not a good thing to look like me."

„Yes. And now he keeps drawing men in masks, saying you're the only one and he has to make more so you wouldn't be lonely." Yana started laughing. „He never quite does what you expect him to do, huh?"

Erik chuckled. „He got that from you."

„Thank you for taking care of him", she said. „I've been busy, but it will be worth it when I get a better job and we have more money."

„Of course. Don't mention it."

„And you're very good with him. He's learning so much for such a small boy."

„To be honest, he's just very talented. His father was a musician, right? He has a good ear for music. He could be a musician himself, one day. We'll get him an instrument in a few years and I could teach him, if you want."

Yana fell silent for a second and wiped what Erik was quite sure to be a tear from the corner of her eye.

„Thank you. You're a wonderful friend. It would mean a lot." She took in a short breath. „I came here so that he could have better chances – not just to survive, but to do something other than serve and fight for other men."

„I understand."

„I'll never forget this", she said. „Piotr is right. More people should be like you."

Erik felt his cheeks getting hot, not knowing what to say to that, but thankfully, a loud knock on Yana's door – Alina's energetic hands, probably – interrupted the silence. Yana hurried to open the door, stopping next to Erik to poke him on the shoulder.

„Don't fight. Be nice to her."

„Yes, I will", he bowed his head at her. „I already promised."

END OF CHAPTER 9

* * *

[1] Yana's middle name – Petrovna – is a patronymic derived from her father's name Pjotr; her last name Charkashina is Belarusian, as she got it from her late husband Mikita Charkashin, who was a traveling musician born in Belarus.

[2] Medovik – russian type of cake made of layers of sponge cake, with a creamy honey filling and covered with nuts.


	10. Gifts

Note: Those who have read my other story, Winter, feel free to skip to the end of the _italicised_ text if you don't want to read the flashbacks. But don't skip the whole chapter, there's more at the bottom!

10\. Gifts

 _December 1885.; Paris_

 _Antoinette entered her office, quickly closing the door behind her and locking it. What a long day this was, she thought. Training a ballet corpus was nowhere nearly as hard as all the side work one had to do with it, such as managing all the sides involved without stepping on anyone's toes; the teenage ballerinas she could understand - their temper and emotionality was to be expected, but the older performers' behavior she had some trouble explaining to herself and others._

 _She went straight to her closet, opening it swiftly to reveal a tall, thin figure sitting on the bottom, concealed in the shadows._

 _"Hello, Erik."_

 _"Madame."_

 _"You're in my closet."_

 _"Do you mind?"_

 _"No, in fact, after a day like this I'd like to join you in here."_

 _He looked at her with slight confusion, but only for a moment before he moved over slightly, making room for her to sit. She sat quietly next to him, embracing her knees to her chest in a gesture entirely unlike her normal strict, poised self. She noticed his discomfort at having someone else in one of his hiding spaces._

 _"I apologize for intruding. I was wondering whether or not I should rather leave you alone."_

 _"And what did you decide?" he asked dryly. Antoinette shot him a quick warning glance and he shrugged, "this is your closet. Do as you wish."_

 _They sat in silence for a minute, listening to the noise below._

 _"Are opera houses usually like this?" He asked._

 _"Yes."_

 _"That's horrendous. How do you handle it?"_

 _"Apparently, by hiding in my closet with a teenage boy."_

 _"Your taste in company is horrible. And before I was here?" he asked with amusement._

 _"Before you were here, I was a bit lonelier", she admitted._

 _He went quiet again, staring straight ahead. Antoinette couldn't see his expression, but she felt it would be better if she let him be for a minute._

 _"And, I can't help but ask, why are you in my closet to begin with?"_

 _"Same reason as you, because it's quieter. I couldn't think from all the yelling."_

 _Of course, that was not the entire truth; the entire truth would have been that Erik accidentally found himself very close to the stage when the yelling first started and that he also actively disliked yelling so much that someone less proud would have called it fear, or even dread he felt when people raised their voices too close to him. Of course, someone much, much less proud may have even admitted to himself that he went to Antoinette's room because the thought of her calms him down when he's afraid, but Erik's stubborn, eighteen-year-old-trying-to-be-tough heart would have sooner died than admitted it._

 _"I forgot I had this dress", Antoinette remarked absent-mindedly. "It's been a while since I'd worn it last."_

 _Erik wondered if this was one of those things people say and don't expect a reply – he could never quite figure out when she expected him to continue the conversation, so he mostly erred on the side of caution and kept quiet unless he was sure. He found that most people, judging by Antoinette, talk incredibly often, feeling the need to share things he would never have thought of actually saying out loud. And why would he? He spent over a half of his life without anyone who would listen or care about his inner turmoil, and he had grown used to narrating his own thoughts to himself in his head. The fact that people narrated their own thoughts to others out loud was new and hard to follow._

 _"Why do people yell so often here?" he asked. Antoinette thought about a good way to put it._

 _"To get things to go their way, I suppose?"_

 _"It doesn't really work, I've noticed, when it comes to you."_

 _"I'm not easily scared", she smiled sharply in the dark. "by fools banging their pots and pans demanding to be heard. I know where I draw the line, and they know it too. The rest is just a scene we all make to prove a point."_

 _"What is the point, in this case? I didn't quite catch that."_

 _"I suppose the point is that we all care about this performance, maybe a little too much, and feel like giving in to others' ideas of what it should look like seems like giving away a piece of yourself", she said, suddenly tired. "If I was being honest. But we can pretend for a minute that they're all fools and I'm the only one right."_

 _"Hm." Erik, not caring about nuances of interpersonal conflict, honestly believed she was always right and they were all fools, but decided to err on the side of caution again._

 _"And I stand by what I said. The ballerinas need more resting time or they will snap. Nobody profits if they get injured and can't dance properly. Or if they get sick of it and don't care anymore."_

 _"Do people normally get sick of it when they do something they like?" he asked. "Is it just a ballet thing?"_

 _"Not just a ballet thing. Everyone gets tired. Don't you?"_

 _"Not like that."_

 _"Really?"_

 _"I don't feel it at all until it becomes too much. Yesterday I played until my fingers cramped and I had to wrap my hand in a scarf and wait for it to move again. Then I played some more."_

 _"You should definitely practice moderation."_

 _"If I really tried, I would probably practice moderation until I felt it was perfect and then I would go insane and die."_

 _"Die of moderation?"_

 _"Don't underestimate me."_

 _"Well, no, most people are not like that", she said, shifting a bit in the cramped space. "There's nothing wrong with resting and doing something else. It's not the end of the world if something isn't perfect. When I gave you that violin, it was supposed to bring you joy, not stress."_

 _"It does bring me joy. So much of it that it stresses me out", he said. "I don't know how to explain it. It makes me more real somehow when I play. When I stop, I feel like I'm fading away again."_

 _She blinked. "Fading away?"_

 _"Like... a ghost. Thoughts start to curl again. I forget what I am, or where I am. But when I pick up the violin, I remember that I'm a musician. So it has to be perfect", he said, feeling his cheeks get very hot suddenly, "I want to be a real musician. I want to be the best. Nobody who hears me will be able to say I'm not real. Or not... human. " Realizing what he said, he felt a strange sense of shame wash over him. "Not that anyone will ever hear me."_

 _Antoinette made a conscious effort not to stare at him at this admission, reminding herself he hated it. Instead, she wrapped one arm lightly around his shoulders, moving slowly so as not to scare him. "My dear boy, there is nobody in this world who would dare deny that you are human, musician or not. If anyone does, you can send them to me, and you've seen today what I do to people who cross me."_

 _He was suddenly very thankful for the near-blackness of the closet space, not daring to move or make a sound. They remained sitting in silence until Antoinette snapped out of it, exclaiming loudly she still has to go pick up her daughter before going home._

 _"I'll see you again tomorrow, dear. Try not to ruin your fingers for my sanity's sake."_

 _"I'll try, madame. Goodbye."_

 _She shot him another quick glance before leaving. "Erik, sometimes I think you're the sanest person in this opera."_

 _"Madame, if that were true, the place would have burned down already."_

 _ooo_

 _December 1888.; Paris_

 _"Erik, you're in my closet", Antoinette said opening the door. Every time she found him in her closet, she said the same thing, and every time he gave her a different snarky reply. It had become sort of a tradition in the past five years they'd known each other._

 _"Am I, really?" he looked around in mock surprise. "Pardon me; I was certain this was Champs-Élysées."_

 _She smiled. "Aren't you in a good mood today?"_

 _"I have something to tell you", Erik smiled. "My house is finished."_

 _"Oh, lovely!" She beamed up. "Will you show it to me?"_

 _"Follow me", he whispered mischievously as he snuck silently out of the room. Antoinette followed, trusting that he had checked if anyone was left on their floor before moving so openly in the hallways. Erik hurried down the hall and opened an innocent looking storage door at the end._

 _"In here."_

 _"Is this another one? I thought it was just a storage room", she remarked, slightly confused._

 _"Oh, it was until recently. I added this", he said, pushing an almost invisible loose brick in the wall. The opposite wall moved with a quiet hiss and he leaned on it to push it further. "It connects to the tunnels. I only had to tear down one thin wall to connect them; I think it may have been intended for this at some point. Either way, you can now get to me from your own floor directly", he said, pointing proudly at the entrance. Antoinette lifted up her skirt a little and stepped into the small storage room, leaning to look into the dark tunnels. She felt cold air on her face from down below, but couldn't see anything. It always shocked her when she entered the tunnels – how cold and damp it was down in the catacombs, and how guilty she felt that he had to spend his days down there._

 _"I'll add some sort of light source later, if I can, but you may have to bring a candle for now", he said, slightly embarrassed. "I'll lead. Be careful, I've set alarms here and over there", he pointed at some invisible points on the floor. "Just in case anyone stumbles upon this. I can't have people wandering around here." He stepped into the tunnel, waiting for her to light a candle and follow him. Antoinette held it high above her, inspecting the walls for signs of structural weaknesses – or, to be fair, poisonous mold. It seemed safe enough._

 _"What happens when you trigger the alarm?" she asked as he pointed at more of the traps, repeating that she has to remember them all._

 _"Depends on the trap."_

 _"I won't like this, will I?"_

 _He tried to shrug casually, but she saw that the comment got to him. "The ones close to the surface will simply sound the alarm in my house, and create some kind of barrier to prevent the person from continuing further."_

 _"And?"_

 _"And the ones on the deeper levels", he said quickly, "will incapacitate the person in some way, usually with blunt force. The idea is that they faint and I can carry them up before they wake up. They're not lethal."_

 _"No?" Antoinette said with the voice she usually used when she knew someone was lying to her. She perfected that voice in the past two decades; it could be really unnerving to the faint-hearted._

 _"One of them can be. But only if you really, really persist", he said, growing more upset. "Listen, if someone does get to the fifth underground level, and keeps pushing further against warning and without my permission, I can only assume they're after me. And in that case, I'd really, really hate for them to find me."_

 _"That's a fair compromise, I suppose", she said. "I'm glad you decided to listen to me."_

 _"It's for your sake, too. You won't be hurt no matter what, if you need to get to me", he said earnestly. They walked carefully through the corridors, all the way to the very bottom. "There's another one here. We're almost down."_

 _Fifth underground level was very, very cold, Antoinette noticed, and pitch-black. That is, until they turned around a corner and she suddenly saw it._

 _The underground lake was illuminated by the warm faint light of oil lamps, and close to the shore was a tiny, but absolutely functional, house. It was made from materials left over from various Opera projects and the construction of the building itself – but brought together so carefully that she would not have guessed it if she wasn't an accomplice in stealing those same materials._

 _Erik grinned. "What do you think?"_

 _"It looks beautiful", she breathed. "Show me inside."_

 _He walked ahead of her with a noticeable skip in his step, opening the door. "Be my guest, Madame Giry", he beamed proudly._

 _"Oh, monsieur, you're so kind", she winked. Seeing him like this was one of the proudest moments of her life – if someone had told her that the skinny boy who couldn't speak would be inviting her for tea in his own house five years later, she would never have believed them._

 _The interior was small, divided into several rooms, he explained – sleeping room, bathroom, living room and study. There was no point in having a kitchen since cooking so low underground was too tricky, and it was simpler to just grab leftovers from the staff kitchen when the cooks went home (Antoinette was fairly sure that he actually simply forgot to include it, seeing as he never really learned how to cook or even eat regularly, for that matter, but decided to keep quiet). The bedroom had a small bed and closet and not much else, but the living room and study were so intricately decorated that she couldn't help but smile. There was a small sitting couch and coffee table, and a working desk in the study, and bookshelves on every wall. He built them all himself, he explained. There were drawings and paintings – some stolen from above, some his own; endless books on music, sheet paper, several instruments, sculptures, memorabilia stolen from sets of his favorite plays, mechanisms and music boxes that he built himself. Erik had become something of a magpie, collecting pretty things that reminded him of happy days, and they were all here – some sweet, some eerie, some dramatically sad. It would have been a strange place for someone with a more down-to-earth view of the world and interior design, but to Erik, it must have been like having a perfect, cozy nest just for himself._

 _"This is all so beautiful", she said for the third time as he showed her around._

 _He was still beaming. "Yes. And it's mine. And you can come anytime you want, but nobody else can find me." He gestured for her to sit. "I've actually made tea for you, if you want to stay."_

 _"Oh, absolutely", she sat down. "I'd also like to hear where you got that statue over there, because I'm fairly certain we had a very similar one disappear a few years ago"._

 _ooo_

 _December 1893.; Paris_

 _Bewildered and panicked, Antoinette climbed back into her room and closed the door behind her. She felt her heart beating in her throat as she leaned her back on the door and sighed deeply. It took her a few seconds to compose herself again after all that had happened._

 _He was gone. They didn't find him._

 _She was almost certain she would see her own - child, no, he was hardly a child anymore - she would see him imprisoned, chained or simply killed by the mob. She paced around the room nervously, trying to think. This was impossible. He had to go somewhere. She had to find him. She couldn't just leave him like this._

 _She opened the door to her closet, acting more on some stupid, desperate hope than any other reason._

 _He was sitting at the bottom, half-covered in darkness, with his face bare and his mask in his hands. He didn't move or look at her at all when she opened the room, staring straight ahead; his eyes were two empty, bottomless pits._

 _She didn't quite know what to say. Should she hug him, cry and say how worried she was something would happen to him? Should she mention how furious she was about all that he's done? Should she even ask how the hell he managed to escape without a trace when the mob was practically at his door already?_

 _"Erik, you're in my closet." The words ran hollow and ridiculous._

 _"I have nowhere to go", he whispered._

 _Antoinette cast a nervous glance over her shoulder. Could someone hear them? Probably not. Everyone was still on the ground floor when she left, the police slowly calming the bloodthirsty mob down and sending them home. They would probably not check her twice, as she wasn't causing any problems._

 _But they might start searching around again when it all clears._

 _"We need to leave soon, and quietly", she whispered, turning back to him. "It's not safe. Take this cloak and I'll take you out when a path clears." Somehow. They both knew their way around the labyrinthine building better than almost anyone; and the cold weather would allow her to bundle him up in a cloak and scarf without suspicion. The rest would be up to improvisation and luck._

 _"I have nowhere to go", he repeated._

 _She didn't know what to say to that. She slowly lowered herself on the closet floor next to him._

 _"You're going with me. We'll think of something."_

 _He didn't appear to register what she said, still staring blindly ahead of him until he finally broke the silence._

 _"They found my home. Burned it to the ground. They wanted me dead."_

 _"I'm sorry, dear."_

 _"You were with them", he turned to her. "Did you lead them to me?" She noticed his eyes were red and glistening and wondered if it was because of all the smoke that was down there._

 _Antoinette's eyes widened with shock. "I was there to stall them, to make them listen to reason. I led them all the way around the catacombs to buy you some time. I was trying to help you! They would have gone down anyway, with or without me! Don't you think it was a better idea to come along and try to keep them under control than let them do whatever?"_

 _He kept silent._

 _"If you thought I betrayed you, why did you come back to me?" She demanded._

 _"I have nowhere to go", he repeated again. "I thought I might as well come and ask." He also had nobody else in the entire world to go to. There were really two outcomes to that: either she was still on his side and he was safe coming here, or she betrayed him and would call upon the angry mob to finish him off as soon as she found him here._

 _Both were equally appealing. If he was to die by her hand, it would have been alright with him._

 _She sat next to him. "I was trying to help you. As I will help you now."_

 _He turned away from her and stared into the dark again. "But you did show him down there, didn't you?" he said quietly. "De Chagny. He would not have found it by himself."_

 _"Oh. That I did." She paused. "I offered to show him the way, hoping he'd resolve everything before the mob got to you. I made him promise he wouldn't hur- do anything rash before he talked to you. I told him you'd do the right thing, in the end."_

 _She took another long breath before continuing, "It was wrong, what you did on the stage. You... have not been yourself lately. I was afraid. But you still did the right thing, in the end."_

 _She could barely make out that Erik's shoulders were starting to shake in the darkness of the closet. His mask made a soft bump as he dropped it and buried his face in his hands._

 _"But I love her."_

 _"I know."_

 _"Is this it? The only right thing I did was to release her from me?" during the past few months, Erik had been... completely insane, to be honest, but that was beside the point. He was frightening, and aggressive, and loud. The person currently sobbing quietly on Antoinette's floor was the same teenage boy she met eleven years ago. "Is that what I am, in the end, after all? Is this all I can hope for?"_

 _"You are exactly what I thought you were", she said. After short hesitation, she reached out to put her hand very lightly on his head, stroking his hair slowly like an upset child. "You're a good enough man to not do to others what has been done to you. It was simply not meant to be, and it's nobody's fault. But you're a good man, and you let her go, and I'm proud of you."_

 _"You should have let them have me", he shook his head, trying to calm down._

 _"If it was me, would you have done that?" She raised her eyebrows._

 _"No", he sniffed. "I would have torn this place to pieces looking for you, and I'd kill everyone who stood in my way."_

 _"If I found you dead, Erik, I assure you I would have burned down a lot more than this theater", she said quietly, standing up. "We have to go. We'll talk more later, but we're not safe yet."_

 _"Where are we going?"_

 _"Back to the beginning, I suppose", she said, digging through the closet for a big enough cloak for him. "Just you and I, hiding in my apartment."_

 _He stood up slowly, getting carefully out of her way. His movements were strange - quiet, eerie, like when she first found him._

 _"Here, put this on. Follow my lead and I'll get us out."_

 _He took the cloak and shawl from her hands, putting them on. "Merci, maman", he remarked absentmindedly, looking at some invisible point in the wall._

 _She decided not to comment on it as they exited the room and walked swiftly through one of the less-known back doors and into the dark, snowy night._

ooo

December 1894; New York

Erik turned the small ring over between his fingers, thinking.

He didn't really need it.

He didn't really need to sell it, either. He wasn't that poor anymore, and he had survived without selling it for this long.

It felt wrong to have it. It felt wrong to discard it.

 _Maybe I should try to give it to Alina. To see if it's maybe the ring that's cursed._

 _It would prove nothing, genius. You're the one giving it in both cases._

 _I mean, yes._ He sighed, putting it back in his pocket.

He should probably sell it. _Yana gave me the last thing she had of her late husband, and Alina gave me a year of her life to make sure I wouldn't die_. Besides, the ring bore bad memories. It would be better to just sell it and be done with it. Maybe buy something nice for people who actually care about him.

He stood in shadows in front of the pawn shop. Lost in thought, he didn't even notice at first that the shop was dark inside and the little cardboard piece on the door read „CLOSED". _What time is it, even? What day is it?_ It was that strange time between Christmas and New Year when everything seemed to be in sort of a limbo: Coney Island worked, but even the usually energetic staff seemed... tired. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something. The atmosphere affected even him, which was strange considering he normally couldn't care less what day it was.

Since Yana was orthodox and Jack didn't care, Alina agreed, somewhat begrudgingly, to have them all celebrate New Year together instead of Christmas. Which meant they spent Christmas together, just the two of them, for a change. But it also meant she would spend one more week preparing.

He heard Jack coming from a mile away and chose to ignore him, hoping he would leave and let him think in peace.

„Selling family legacy, are you?" he asked approaching.

„No, I'm thinking about buying actually."

„Something in mind?"

„I was going to buy this sign that says 'CLOSED' and stick it on my back, just so people would stop coming up to me and talking", Erik said, looking at the storefront.

Jack snorted. „There are better pawn shops around. In fact, this one might be among the worst, price-wise. It's not even doing that well. Happens when you rob too many customers."

„That's fine. I don't really care about money." He was pretty sure any money he would get from this thing would be cursed as well if he used it. _I should just give it all to the first beggar I see._

„Which tells me you're selling", Jack bowed his head a little. „You'd care if you had to give your hard-earned money to some overpricing asshole. You want to get rid of something."

„Yes", Erik looked at him. „one specific nosy man, among other things."

Jack shrugged. „I came looking for you because of work. I had no idea I'd interrupt something private."

„What is it, then?" Erik turned from the pawn shop and started walking, Jack following next to him.

„Well", he smiled, „I have scheduled construction to start on January 3rd. I thought you might want to, you know, save the date. Come there to see it."

„Am I needed?" Erik asked. „I thought my blueprints were very thorough. For that specific reason."

„As a supervisor, you're not needed. I can take care of that."

„I have other things to do, then."

„Moving on to better things already?" Jack smiled. „How's composing?"

„Good enough so far."

"You're very talented", he remarked. "Have you considered a career in music?"

"No."

"Why not?", he cocked his head slightly. "If you don't want to perform, that's one thing. But your compositions are good enough that you could get noticed, you know. You obviously have no problem working hard enough to succeed. Don't you want it?", he smiled. "Recognition? Appreciation? For your art?"

"It's just a stupid pastime", Erik hissed. "Let it go." A year ago, he might have just attacked him on the spot. His first instinct was to make him pay for mocking him like this; _it's obvious why all this will never happen for so many reasons and I doubt Jack is blind enough not to see them. Why torment me with stories and false hopes? Is he getting back at me for something?_ He never quite got used to Jack and his constant torrent of sarcasm and smugness. Most of the time Erik made it bluntly clear he wanted to keep his distance from him and never bothered trying to befriend him in any meaningful way.

 _Well, unless he really means it. In which case he's been trying to help me, and I'm an ass._

(Unknown to Erik, Jack was actually not hostile toward him at all; he in fact considered Erik a friend and though he didn't quite understand his behavior, he respected him. Used to banter and joking among his other mostly male friends, he couldn't figure out why Erik would sometimes seem to go along with his attempts to make conversation only to withdraw into himself and refuse to engage any further. It made him slightly frustrated.)

Erik kept silent until he calmed down. They wandered around the snow-covered streets for a while. Everyone they passed looked equally lost in time and space, barely looking at them. Jack walked next to him quietly, until he stopped and waved his hand to point at another pawn shop.

"I've changed my mind", Erik remarked walking right past it. He could see Jack trying not to roll his eyes at the corner of his eye. "I actually did want to be a musician when I was younger. I never had the opportunity", he admitted. He shot a quick glance at Jack to see how he would react. Jack's face softened at the confession, losing some of the apparent smugness and sarcasm.

"Opportunities can be arranged", he said. "The rest is up to you. Just something to think about."

Erik nodded. "Thank you", he added after a while. He didn't want to elaborate, and Jack didn't insist.

After Jack left, Erik somehow ended up on that rocky beach again. _Funny how this happens_. He walked in silence, interrupted only by an occasionall seagull crying in the distance, through the frozen sand and pebbles, between the sharp cliffs.

He walked to the very edge of the shoreline and stood there, tiny waves almost touching the tips of his shoes, and looked across the sea. The overcast skies melted with the cold grey sea in the distance, making it seem as though he was under an incredibly large glass dome. The view was unusually clear; Erik thought if he squinted enough he might see the coast of Europe outlined in the distance.

"It feels wrong to get rid of you", he said to the far-away coast of Europe, and to the cursed thing in his pocket, and to himself.

None of them answered.

"Whatever I do, it feels wrong anyway", he continued. He didn't care how insane it would seem if someone accidentaly found him. Talking out loud somehow lifted some of the stuffing he felt in his lungs and heart, and he thought if he squinted enough he would also see grey clouds rising out of his mouth and joining with the cloudy sky above.

"I deserve to drag this with me to my grave", he said, taking out the ring again and twirling it between his fingers. "And I... don't want to forget you", he whispered to the horizon.

The horizon was silent.

"But that would hurt even more people", he continued. "Antoinette was right. Hating myself doesn't absolve me of what I did any more than blaming others would. The only thing I can do is to think of others for a change."

He was growing tired of the stupid sea silently judging him at this point, but he went on.

"And, and maybe I don't deserve to be happy, but she does, and I have to at least try for her sake", he fumbled. "So I have to let this go, even if I do deserve to have it weighing me down to hell, because I'd drag her down with me and I can't have that happen."

Erik took a deep breath and threw the ring as far into the sea as he could. It flickered for a moment before disappearing. He felt a faint prick of sadness as it disappeared, but it passed as suddenly as it came.

"Goodbye, then, I suppose", he said flatly, turning back towards the island.

ooo

Back in the kitchen of Erik's and Alina's house, Alina and Yana used the precious spare time they had over the holidays to spend it together. Piotr was already asleep in Alina's room, having spent all of his enormous energy reserves asking hard questions.

„I think we should make rum cakes", Alina mused.

„Good idea" Yana sifted through the small notebook of recipes she had written down over the years. „Why not just be honest and admit you don't like cooking unless you're drunk?"

Alina opened her mouth, then closed it again. „Not true."

„Really?"

She looked to the side, guiltily. „It _might_ be a somewhat tedious activity. And I'm nowhere near as good at it as you are. But I like making sweets. I like feeding people, I don't know, it makes me feel like I'm taking care of them."

„Hmm." Yana smiled a little, not commenting the obvious. „Do you know of any recipes with rakija?"

„Just one."

„Yes?"

„Get stupid drunk with rakija, then make whatever."

„No wonder you never learned how to cook properly. I've only got drunk twice in my life", Yana admitted. „Once when I married Mikita, and once when he died."

„Oh." Alina shifted. She didn't know what to say.

„It's irresponsible when you have a baby."

„Well, technically, he's not a baby anymore. And Erik can watch him when he gets home, if he wakes up", Alina said. „Where is Erik, anyway?" a little shadow of fear passed through her eyes momentarily, before disappearing again.

„Sulking on the roof", Yana pointed her finger at the ceiling nonchalantly.

„What? How do you know that? Why is he on the roof?"

„I think he just likes it up there." Yana stood up, navigating her way through the tiny kitchen. What Alina lacked in inspiration when it came to housekeeping, she made up for in discipline. Everything was quite tidy and organized, and Yana had no problem finding anything she needed in the room; however, it was clear that Alina didn't actually _enjoy_ cooking or cleaning that much, as the room lacked that special touch only someone like Yana who loved being at home could give it. Alina also didn't decorate that much until the holidays rolled around – she seemed to enjoy her home being simple and Yana had to admit there was a certain elegance to it (even though she'd never trade it for her own complex embroidered curtains). Alina once admitted she grew up surrounded by kitsch and felt overwhelmed by it; she decided to make her own home more minimalistic and elegant – whereas Yana, growing up dirt poor, relished every opportunity to bring a little bit of color into her surroundings. Now, however, the obvious outlier was an entire armada of paper stars scattered and stuck everywhere, which Yana was also careful not to comment too much on.

She rolled up her sleeves. "I think vanilla moons are the right choice today."

"Those are decidedly rum-less cookies, even I know that."

"I don't want to rob you of your rum, or you will be too bored while we work."

ooo

Erik was sitting in his favorite spot on the roof, admiring the stars when Alina's voice shook him of thinking.

„Erik!"

He looked down.

„Why are you on the roof? You'll freeze!"

„Because I like it. What do you want?"

Alina was already attempting to climb, with Yana holding her up from below.

„Wait!"

Too late. She pulled herself up on the lowest edge of the roof and, stumbling a little, stood up and wiped her dress. She then offered a hand to Yana, who climbed with an equal lack of feminine grace.

 _What? Alina doesn't stumble. She's actually well-coordinated._ „What are you-„

„We came here to ask you what your favorite food was!"

„I don't have one."

They walked, very slowly and carefully, toward him. Erik was starting to panic somewhat – the roof wasn't so high that they would die if they fell, but it was still highly unnerving. „Are you trying to break something?"

„Noooo. Nonono." Alina smiled. „Relax."

„Don't tell me to-„

„Erik", Yana said. „I think you should talk to us. Tell us. Your favorite food." She was smiling a little sweeter than usual.

„What in the seven hells is wrong with the two of you?"

„Nothing", they said in unison, both looking equally guilty. They looked at each other and burst out laughing. „We're celebrating", Alina added. „New Years and whatnot."

He looked at them both, suddenly feeling stupid. „Are you two- "

„Tipsy, a little, maybe", Alina slowly sat to his right, with Yana on her other side. „But we saved you a little. Oh, the stars are wonderful tonight! How is the sky so clear suddenly? It was so cloudy earlier today."

„What about-„

„He's well-fed and fast asleep", Yana interrupted. „What kind of mother do you think I am?"

„Fair enough." _I think it might be best if I go along with this without arguing._

"Anyway, your favorite food", Yana continued. "Do you know how long it took us to find your little secret ladder? Show some respect."

"I think it's, uh, potatoes."

"Wrong", Alina said, pushing her hands into her pockets. "I have another question for you."

"I'll try harder this time", he said. _To be fair, this is quite funny._

"How many bottles of rum and how many cookies can you fit in the pockets of one standard-size female wool coat, prov-provided that the lining is ripped and the interior is one large hole barely holding itself together?", she said, barely containing her laughter.

"Is the coat yours?"

"No hints", she pointed her finger at him strictly.

"I would say it depends on how determined you are, but at least two bottles and twenty five cookies before it breaks", he scratched his chin pretending to think hard, "is the answer to your first question 'rum and cookies'?"

"Yesss."

"Can I have some?"

"God bless you", she said, reaching deep in her pockets and taking out a small bottle and a napkin. Passing him the bottle, she unfolded the napkin to reveal a handful of cookies while he took a swig.

"You guessed wrong, by the way", she said. "But the riddle may have been unfair. The coat can fit one bottle of rum, an obscene amount of cookies, and _this_ ", she said, taking another napkin from her pocket and unwrapping it. She held in her palm another small cookie – at least it looked like a cookie – in the shape of a heart, glazed with something red and shiny and decorated with thin white lines along the edges. In the center of the heart, a tiny mirror stood, surrounded by white flowers. "Technically, if you peel the red wax and the ornaments it's edible, but I wouldn't recommend it. It's a traditional Croatian ornament."

"It's very lovely", he said. "What do you call it?" She seemed very happy whenever he showed interest in her stories about Croatia, so he tried to encourage her to talk about it more. He leaned closer to see the object while passing the bottle to Yana. He could feel the beginning of a warm buzz in his mouth and stomach. _You girls are sturdier than you look. This is some strong liquor._

" _Licitar_ ", Alina said. "It's an old custom for young ladies to bake and decorate them, and then give them to their suitors", she held out the little heart on the palm of her hand, grinning drunkenly and mischievously.

Erik laughed, "We're very traditional, aren't we?" He took the ornament from her and looked at it more closely. "Why is this piece of glass in the middle? It's a mirror?"

"Yesss. I dunno. They always have it, I think it's just s'posed to be there", she shrugged with a smile. He reached out to plant a small kiss on her cheek.

„I feel like you're making sort of a deliberate effort to soften my edges", Erik said with a smile.

Alina gasped dramatically. „I would _never._ " Yana snickered behind her.

"In my village", Yana said, "when the girls liked someone, it was very shameful to show it. You couldn't do anything that your elders would think is – I think the word is _flirting._ You can't show a boy you like him until he makes a lot of effort. At least not in front of your mother."

"Did anyone actually abide, or did you just get sneakier?" Alina wondered.

" _Božemoj,_ Alina, what do you think? I could tell Mikita exactly when and where I wanted to meet him just with my eyes", she lauged. "Nothing is harder to stop than a girl who's decided."

"True", Alina nodded solemnly.

"Yes. So, I need to go", she got up and walked towards the ladder. "Piotr should wake up in his own bed. It was nice seeing you two."

"We'll walk you back", Erik offered, standing up. Alina followed, unsure on her feet. He helped them down, slowly and carefully, and followed Yana as she carried Piotr over to their home.

They walked back alone, Alina still stumbling and smiling to herself.

"You can't really walk, darling", he remarked. She giggled. "Since we're so traditional already, will you let me help you?"

"Sure", she said, grabbing his sleeve, but Erik had something else in mind.

"That's a tad boring for my taste. Hold on", He reached down around her back and knees and picked her up with both arms, and she had enough composure to wrap her arms around his neck to hold on so he wouldn't drop her. "That's better."

"Hey!"

"Do you want me to put you down?"

"No."

"Alright", Erik smiled as he started walking towards our house. _I hope my right arm doesn't change its mind about being fully healed._ "Remember when you carried me home after I got attacked?"

"Uh-huh." She seemed to be drifting off, looking sleepier by the minute. "Well, I sort of just propped you up." She frowned at the memory.

"I'm just returning the favor", he said. "Besides, from the standpoint of traditional courting, you're getting the proper treatment, young lady."

"You French people sure don't take romance lightly."

"Don't I know it."

He managed to carry her through the short distance their home in peaceful silence. Alina closed her eyes; she was only half awake as Erik carefully opened the door. It was a small miracle that he pulled it off, given that he was still slightly drunk.

"Do you think I could be a musician?" He asked nobody in particular as he carried her across the doorway.

"Dumb question", she yawned into his coat. "You have always been a musician."

 _Not what I meant, but a fair answer anyway_ , he decided. Alina didn't even stir as he lowered her onto her bed and covered her with all of her three blankets.

END OF CHAPTER 10

Note: Here it is! This is the end of the first "chunk" of this story. It's been a year since it started and I feel like this is a good time to wrap it up a little and look back. I will continue posting chapters regularly, but as I've recently (literally a week ago) got a new full-time job (yay! money for groceries!), I will probably only be able to post once a week. I will probably post on Fridays since weekends are the best time to read this type of thing, I think.

Have a nice weekend everyone and I'll see you next week!


	11. Progress

NOTE: Hello everyone! It's Friday and the new chapter is here! It's just in time for the holidays so I hope you'll enjoy this little sweet beginning to the next part of this story (which is happening in February, but still). This week you may have noticed some edits on the chapters before - it was just me adjusting the formatting so I'd add some paragraph and chapter breaks that were in my original word files but didn't translate well to 's own formatting. I apologize for the inconvenience if you saw notifications about it.

I would like to thank the wonderful people who have so far subscribed/favorited/commented on my story, including rosalie01 whose lovely review brought a smile to my face that lasted for an entire day :))) it means a lot to me and I hope you'll keep enjoying this adventure! Everyone have a lovely winter break, take care, get some rest and remember to spend time with your loved ones! This time of the year can be hard on some people, so if you need someone to talk to, my inbox is of course open. See you next week!

 **11\. Progress**

 _February 1895, Coney Island_

Walter stood behind the back door to the small patisserie, trying to enjoy his cigarette in peace and quiet. He had a lot on his mind, and a long day behind him, and was altogether reluctant to go out and show his face to the world.

The heavens seemed reluctant to grant him that mercy, as a small, pale young woman with ash-blond hair came out, carrying a large amount of crumbs in her apron, and shook it out on the ground instead of in the trash. Walter suddenly realized why there were so many birds in this street as of late. He wondered if the other women in the pastry shop were alright with her doing that, or if they even knew.

She noticed him as she turned around, and pointed a strict finger to him. „Too young to smoke."

„I won't tell anyone if you won't", Walter grinned. „What's with the crumbs?"

She looked around sadly. „The birds are hungry."

„Aren't you?" Walt asked.

She sighed. „It's bad luck to let birds die in winter. Spring is silent, and summer is poor. No fruit. No wheat. Veles doesn't feed people who don't care for his creatures."

„ _Veles?_ " he raised his eyebrows. Walter's highly critical mind rarely had time for superstitions, but he was growing curious. The woman didn't seem eager to elaborate.

„Yes." She hurried toward the exit, stopping at the door. „Are you Walter?"

„I... am", he said slowly. „Why?"

„Your teacher left something for you, but you don't get it if you don't drop that disgusting thing", she pointed at the cigarette. She came back a minute later, waited stubbornly for Walt to throw away his cigarette, and handed him a napkin with two slices of cake. „Go now. I have work to do." Walter took the napkin and obediently scurried off, wondering when his day started going so well.

His lessons were going fine despite taking a horrible amount of his energy and patience, and he had to admit reading had become a tiny bit less of a nuisance. His mother would even ask him to read things for her out loud - she was nearsighted and didn't want to bother. He was catching up to the other kids, as teacher Alina made sure to keep her promise and question him loudly in front of the class instead of giving him written tests. She was good at it; on the surface, it seemed as though she was just as strict as before, even more so because she seemed to call his name all the time in class. Walter was thankful for it all. He didn't want to seem like some sort of teacher's pet all of a sudden.

He stopped in front of the construction site and sat on the most unassuming part of the pavement, eating his cake. His head and hands were cold already, but he didn't feel like going home yet. The bruises on his arms reminded him of what was waiting there.

„Hey, mister Demon", he said to the shadowy wall behind him.

„Hello, Walter", the wall replied back. „What do you want?"

Walter shrugged. „I'm just watching them make the new park, in peace and quiet, like you."

Erik rolled his eyes behind him. _So much about peace and quiet._

„Teacher Alina said you know how to make these", he pointed at the large Ferris wheel. „Yeah?"

„Yes." _And I do wish she would stop reminding people of my existence._

„I'd like to visit it some day", Walter mused. „Looks fun."

„Tell Alina that. I'm sure she'll take you."

„No way", Walter said, suddenly annoyed. „I don't need charity. If I visit it, I'll take my own damn self."

„Fair enough." Erik could very much understand the kid, and would have felt bad for him if only he wasn't so annoyingly intruding in his own personal space. Walter sat in silence, finishing his snack.

„Are they hard to build? It doesn't look that hard", he asked after a while.

„Yes and no", Erik replied absentmindedly. Walter made pauses just long enough to make him hope he was done talking and retreat back into his thoughts again.

„I think I could do it", Walter asserted. „Last year, I built the best treehouse, you can ask anyone. It even had an elevator, so you could sit in a bucket and someone would pull you up instead of climbing the – „

„That sounds impressive", Erik said, taking out a piece of paper and scribbling on it. „In fact, I think I could use someone like you. I need someone to take messages for me to the construction site. Give this to Jack Franklin, tell him it's from his business partner. I want to know what they're doing, so listen to Jack, watch carefully and tell me." He folded the paper and held it out to Walt, along with a few coins. „Can you do that? I'll keep paying you as long as I don't have to go there and talk to them myself."

Walter looked at the amount of money presented to him. „You sure hate talking to people a lot."

„You have no idea", Erik smiled sharply at him.

Walt shrugged. It was hardly any of his business; if this madman wanted to throw obscene amounts of money at him for easy tasks that was perfectly fine. He took the note and the money and left quickly.

Erik sighed in relief. To be fair, it wasn't _that_ much money, but he would have paid a lot more to have the boy leave.

Walt hurried through the construction site, avoiding annoyed looks from the workers. He wished he could actually stop and look at what they were doing – he'd never been in an amusement park and he was really curious; what's more, he had always been curious to find out how they built those complex mechanisms. He was growing bored of stealing his father's pocket watch when he was asleep to take it apart and reassemble it. But right now the workers really wanted to kick him out of there, so he sped up. Someone shouted behind him.

„Hey, kid! You can't be here!"

His first instinct was to start running, but he realized he wouldn't find the Jack Franklin that way. So he stopped against his will and turned around, thinking of the money.

„Hello, mister. I have a message for Mr. Jack Franklin. It's from his business partner", he recited, taking out the note. „Where is he?"

The man stopped, confused. Yes, Walt looked pretty much like any street urchin, but most street urchins didn't know the boss' name. He looked him over suspiciously and gestured for him to follow.

He pointed at the boyish, curly-haired man in his thirties standing not far from there, talking to some more important-looking workers. He stopped and frowned when he saw Walt, and he had a very uncomfortable feeling that the man knew him, even though Walt was quite sure he didn't know Jack Franklin.

„Good day, sir. I have a letter for you. It's from your business partner." Walt said obediently, giving him the note and waiting for the man to read it.

Jack unfolded the letter, read it quickly and looked over at the boy with a suspicious frown on his face. This was... surprisingly convenient.

„You didn't read this, did you, boy?"

Walt shook his head. He was not so curious to bother trying to decipher people's handwriting; printed letters were a chore enough for him.

„Alright, then, it seems I might have some more work for you. Follow me", he said. „I need you to listen carefully and repeat what I say to the man who gave this to you. And I need you to describe to him what I show you. Got it?" his tone was stern, but he was looking at Walt with a sort of amusement.

„Yes, sir." Walt picked up the pace to follow the man.

„Alright. Let's start here", Jack said. It seemed Walt would get some new pastimes after all. He really hoped they didn't all work on the same principle as his father's pocket watch.

Jack folded the letter in his pocket, grinning internally. It seemed that he had misjudged his business partner.

 _Jack,I can see that they're making the outer walls on the southern building wooden, and I don't like it. If it catches fire, it's all going down in one spectacular blaze. I don't care if they think it's all right. They are either stupid or lying to you._

 _Also, please get this goddamn kid off my back. If you have any messages, send them through him, show him around and tell him what they're doing and he'll repeat it back to me. Give him toys and show him rides to try it all out. I don't care as long as you keep him occupied. Give him a hat and some new gloves. I don't want him to freeze to death. Erik._

ooo

A few hours later, Erik entered his home frowning absentmindedly at the crude sketch of a disassembled mechanical toy that Jack gave him after Walter left. Next to it, in horrible handwriting, was a single sentence.

 _Meh, these are like clocks._

„Alina?" he called out.

„Yes?" he heard her voice from the other room as she stood up to greet him.

„Are all children smart and then get dumber as they grow, or is it just this one that's particularly clever?" He looked up from the note, his eyes softening as she entered the room.

„Uh. Both, I think", she stood next to him to look at the scribble. „Oh."

„You were right, then", Erik said, passing it to her. „He's a clever kid. You can use this."

„Oh- thank you." she took it. „If he's really promising, they might give him a scholarship for some engineering school or something, they seem to love those around here. If I can coerce him into actually showing his skills, that is."

Erik nodded. „In any case, I have some more things to do. I'll come back late, don't wait for me."

Alina looked up with obvious worry in her eyes. „Where are you going?"

„Lower Manhattan. I'm – doing some research, actually. I'll tell you about it later."

„But why are you going out so late?" Alina realized her voice trembled a tiny bit as she spoke; Erik must have realized it as well because he looked at her in confusion.

„It will be alright. I'll be careful."

She nodded, biting her nail. She didn't look at him. „I just – I don't want anything to happen."

 _Oh._ „I can take care of myself", he said. „I'll be back soon."

She still didn't look convinced.

„Listen", he said, slightly annoyed. „Do you want to keep me locked inside here all the time so you wouldn't worry about me?" _Oh, good God in heavens, this has to be the most ironic, hypocritical thing I have ever uttered out loud. I'm surprised I haven't been struck by lightning already._

She shook her head. Alina hated, hated, hated this feeling. She desired freedom to do whatever she wished all her life; she craved it so much that the idea of limiting someone else's freedom to go wander around for the peace of her own mind made her slightly nauseous. Even if it was reasonable to stay out of trouble.

 _To be fair,_ Erik thought, _I have no right to be annoyed. I think I know how she feels, and I have a distinct memory of handling it far worse back then._

 _Oh, but I hate answering to anybody, I do._

 _But she just seems... worried. The last time I was out all night, my skull nearly ended in pieces._

„Would it help if I promised to be careful, and the next time I go, I can take you with me and show you what I'm doing?" He said carefully. _It's a strange kind of feeling to try giving someone else the consolation you wish you were given yourself._

„Alright", she said, seemingly calmer.

„I'll be back soon." He moved a stray strand of hair from her forehead, planted a light kiss where it was and left.

ooo

It was a bright, moonlit evening in New York, and it promised to turn into a bright, moonlit night; the kind Erik loved ever since he was – well, _old enough –_ to go out and wander alone, lost in his thoughts. The people on Manhattan sped through the snowy streets, eager to get home and into the warm sanctuary of their own beds; nobody paid any attention to him. Erik, in his several layers of mask, scarf, hat and cloak was not standing out in any way against the crowd. He made his way across Lower Manhattan with ease, remembering the path to his destination. Said destination seemed to be a building, unnoticeable in an otherwise also unnoticeable neighborhood – it was a small venue that could serve as both a theatre and a concert hall, built for the needs of several music and drama schools. It was new, and some parts of it were still unfinished; it seemed that whoever built it didn't have as much money as they imagined they did. Erik liked the building from the first moment he laid eyes on it; the simple outer facade hid a relatively complex building that had halls and rooms in places _he_ didn't expect them to be. He had been here once before, and decided he'd come back to listen. Various bands and small chamber orchestras rented the place often for rehearsals, and today was one of those days. Erik entered swiftly and soundlessly through a small backdoor entrance – _funny how there are certain times and places people let down their guard, and funny how predictable they always are._ The door was unlocked; the man who cleaned the place and served as a receptionist at times had just sneaked out to have a sandwich and a cigarette, and was hiding behind the corner.

Once he was inside, it was simply a matter of looking like he belonged there, moving as if he had a purpose, until he could find a shadowy spot to hide. Luckily, there was actually nobody in that part of the building at this time – the musicians were gathering on the stage, getting ready for their rehearsal. Erik stood in the shadow, trying to think of the best way to get as close as possible to them. There would be corridors and passages backstage – theaters always needed a lot of extra spaces – but he didn't feel like climbing through this unfinished building. Something ground-level would do better.

 _Or below ground level._

He had to think quickly. If the building had a basement, it would be accessible from the back more likely than the front – the employees being the ones who needed it, not the guests. He was at the right place, then. It didn't take him long to find the small door to the basement, moving through the shadows with increasing urgency. _Cigarettes don't take long to be smoked. Hurry._ He found the door – it was next to the storage room where they kept the supplies from the tiny staff kitchen. He was just about starting to wonder what he could use to pick the lock, when he realized the door was not locked at all – there was nothing in there to steal yet. He entered the basement, going through the corridors.

 _There should be a passage that goes around the building, for pipes and heating._ He would just have to find it.

Erik soon found the passage and entered it, pulling his scarf closer around his face. The place was dustier than the rest of the basement, so low that he had to walk uncomfortably crouched; and he could not afford being found sneezing and coughing in the middle of this mess.

Finally, approximating the part of the corridor that should be under the stage, Erik carefully looked around for a small trapdoor in the ceiling, and sure enough, there it was. Opening it carefully, he found himself in a small space under the stage where actors and extras could spend their time waiting for their role – it was slightly dusty as well, but seeing as he was the only one there now, it would do. _At least this one is a proper room,_ he thought, stretching his spine.

Erik realized he must have remembered their timetable wrong, or maybe they changed it – he had come here to hear the music academy's orchestra rehearsing their end-of-the-semester concert; but when he settled down, he realized he could only hear four distinct voices as they took out their instruments.

 _A string quartet. How did they get here? They don't exactly need a room this big to practice. They must be performing soon._

They sounded as friends; joking around and talking about life before they began tuning their instruments. Erik felt a pang of bitter envy as he heard them – they sounded almost like family, and they were all playing music together – well, almost all of them. The person at the first violin seat kept quiet as he tuned it and the rest of them talked.

„You alive, Jonsson?" one of the voices said. „Rough night?"

A male voice mumbled something in reply, with impressive annoyance.

„Alright then, let's begin."

As they started playing, Erik immediately realized how they got there – they were incredible, probably employed by either the academy or someone similar. They were skilled, very skilled, and seemed to really care about what they were playing. Erik was just entertaining the possibility of actually buying a ticket and listening to these people when they performed the concert, when the first violin started playing.

As the first violin started his part, Erik felt a sudden strong desire to leave his hiding place and smack the man across the head. His talent was obvious, his technique was flawless – possibly the best of them all – but he had a sort of unmotivated laziness that people like Erik, having heard a lot of music, could hear very well; it was an affront to his ears and his entire being. The man was completely disinterested in what he was doing and could have very well been sawing through a piece of wood. Erik wondered who goddamn Jonsson was and what in the world Haydn must have done to him to make him butcher his work so cruelly. He was entirely sure that if _he_ had the opportunity to actually practice with other people who cared about him on the stage, he would not have been so completely, unrepentantly ungrateful about it.

The music went on, four of them playing together and joking in the short pauses between playing. Jonsson actually woke up around the middle of the rehearsal, putting some effort into his playing and letting out a few truly remarkable minutes of beauty on his violin before retreating back to his lazy bitterness. The others never commented on it; they talked to him with friendly concern as they invited him out for a beer with them after the rehearsal and he refused. As the musicians left, Erik wandered around the passages some more. Not all of the building was dusty and unfinished; some of the corridors were almost pleasant to be in. He considered waiting for everyone to leave so that he could explore the upper levels and the stage, when he suddenly remembered.

 _I promised Alina I wouldn't take too long._

But he really, really wanted to stay.

 _Maybe I'll come again with her._

It was a strange idea. Erik loved wandering around, exploring places he had no business being in – but he had always done it alone, and the thought of bringing her along – he couldn't predict what would happen. But he had promised to be safe, so he would keep that. He looked for a door, and found a small one that led him to the main hall in the front of the building – he got out quickly and sped through the front door, into the moonlit night.

ooo

He entered the house and immediately noticed Alina still up and reading in the kitchen.

„Oh. Good evening." He took off his coat and sat across from her. „You can't sleep?"

„I couldn't stop reading at the cliffhanger", she shrugged, closing the book and looking at him expectantly. „So, how's research?"

He smiled. „Great, actually. I've been across town these days, and I've been watching the way this city enjoys its music."

„Huh?"

„I've been around several venues when they were having rehearsals, listened to some street musicians, snuck into... uh, visited the music academy and several schools."

„To what end?"

„I haven't decided yet, but", he swallowed, "You know, back in Paris, I used to listen to a lot of music. I... practically lived at Opera Garnier for a while, so I heard a lot of concerts and plays. I've missed it here."

"Oh, lovely!" Alina started, "do you-" she coughed and stopped herself. Her first impulse was to ask him if he wanted to go with her as she would have asked any of her friends; it was physically hard for her to constrain herself at his previous request.

Erik sighed very deeply, very aware of what she was going to say.

"As I was saying. I'd like to do that again, and I'd like you to come with me, if you'd like."

"Of course I would!" she beamed.

"Great. I actually had something in mind. Do you like Beethoven?"

"Yes! I think so."

„They're performing one of his concerts soon. I was thinking of going to one of the final rehearsals – there is one tomorrow, actually. The venue will be open, but almost no-one usually comes to the rehearsals. Not for an event this small. So we could sit somewhere in the back and nobody will – see me", he shrugged, „if you don't mind, that is."

ooo

Certainly enough, Alina was prepared to go the next day. She came home earlier than usual from work, and was met with an empty house. Erik was still at the construction site, probably; he wouldn't expect her to be home so soon. Maybe that was for the better – Alina would have enough time to freshen up and get ready before he came home, and wouldn't be distracted. Not to mention, she had to admit, she would enjoy meeting him already in her dramatic evening gown.

Speaking of which, Alina had to find the bloody thing. She dug through her things; she wasn't entirely sure why she brought the dress with her to America – she only bought it because the salesman, back in London, told her she looked pretty in it.

It was, to be fair, a lovely dress – dark emerald green that complimented her skin, with black lace on the sleeves and little black flowers embroidered on the bodice. The cut of the dress was a little more daring than Alina was used to – it exposed her neck and collarbones, wrapping neatly around her shoulders and flowing into the simple, narrow sleeves and tight bodice. The skirt of the dress also had embroidery, and several ribbons flowing down the length of it – most of them black, aside from one thin, silver one on each side. Alina liked the little silver threads; they matched the pins in her hair nicely. The dress was pretty enough to be special, but simple enough for her to still feel like herself, Alina decided as she looked at her reflection in the window. She pulled her hair back in a loose bun, braiding the strands on the sides and affixing them in the back with pins. Her mother would sometimes pinch her cheeks to „give them a blush", and she wondered for a moment if that would ever actually work and if she should maybe try it, when she heard the door open behind her.

Alina turned around, smiling delightedly as only a person who just put on their best clothes could, to face Erik entering the house.

„I'm ready to go!" she spun around.

He stood for a moment, unmoving, before seemingly remembering to close the door.

„I can see that, yes." He stood in front of her in slight embarassment. „I'm afraid you might be wasting that dress, because no-one will see you. It's not a concert, just a rehearsal."

Alina frowned, taken aback by the comment. She suddenly felt a strong desire to cover herself.

„No-one?" she crossed her arms in front of her.

„My plan was to avoid people, yes. There are some secluded seats in the back."

She felt a very strong wave of frustration form somewhere deep in her spine and flood over her head. „Yes, that was what you'd said", she raised an eyebrow. „I am aware."

Erik stood, looking at her in confusion. Alina suddenly realized how he felt in those moments when she would say something entirely clueless and he would start rubbing his temples slowly.

„Yes, because it's very often that I dress nicely to be seen by hordes of unfamiliar people", she said, still frowning with her arms crossed. „Once, last Easter, I even braided flowers in my hair. _That_ certainly wasn't for you, you clueless... darling", she finished with a smile.

„You told me not to comment on it back then", he said.

„I'm not saying it now", she gritted through her teeth with a lot more annoyance than was appropriate for the situation.

„Wait", Erik held out his hand, sitting down. „is that really why you braided flowers in your hair last Easter?"

„No", she narrowed her eyes at him before turning around, pretending to look for her hat. She certainly wasn't going to change _now,_ even if she was wasting this beautiful dress on a daft, clueless... darling.

„You're lying. Do you know where the flowers came from?" he asked, incredulous. „Did Yana tell you? Have you known all this time?"

She turned to face him again. „Sorry? I don't remember, exactly. They were on my desk when I came. I thought children put them in my pockets, they stuff a lot of things in my pockets all the time."

Erik brought up his hands to his face very slowly, rubbing the bridge of his nose over the mask. „ _I'm_ clueless, clearly." he looked at Alina, suddenly feeling very tired. He could understand how she felt when she would roll her eyes at him. „I put them there. That was me. You put daisies and violets in your hair, thinking that they magically appeared on your desk? For... for me?"

Alina stared at him. „But why?"

„Why? You mentioned your mother picking violets and daisies every Easter with you, and I bought some from a girl on the street, thinking it would make you happy. But then as I was leaving them on your desk I changed my mind, deciding it was a stupid idea. Then you came home and startled me, and they fell out of my hands, all over the desk, everywhere. I had no time to pick them up, so I pretended I was never in there."

Alina stared at him for another moment, before bursting into very loud, very unladylike laughter that clashed with her delicate dress. „I'm- I'm sorry, I can't believe – oh dear, I can't – oh no." She gave a truly brave attempt to restrain herself for a second, before starting to snicker and bursting into laughter again.

„Yes, it's very funny", Erik replied bitterly. „I'm horrible at doing something sweet for another human being."

„I'm not laughing at you", she straightened herself immediately after noticing his distress. „I'm laughing at myself, because it honestly hadn't occured to me until now that it could have been you. I spent that Easter wondering how I could make you pay more attention to me, while braiding violets you", she swallowed another chuckle, „you left on my desk to make me happy. It really is something special. And then I forbade you from saying anything, because I thought you would laugh at me, or, or call me juvenile, or some other nonsense."

„If you could stop being so insufferable", he smirked, „I _might_ even tell you what I really wanted to say. If you're lifting the ban from me commenting on your appearance, that is." He looked at his watch and quickly stood up. „But after we leave. We might actually be late. Hurry."

Alina put on her coat, hat and gloves with remarkable speed for once. She wrapped her arm around his, looking at him expectantly as he locked the house, and continued looking at him as they walked quickly toward the ferry to Manhattan.

Erik looked at her from the side. „Yes?"

„What, what, what did you really want to say?" she smiled innocently.

He looked ahead. „I thought you looked beautiful."

„Ah." She beamed.

„As you do now", he nodded, smiling slightly.

„Heh." The smugness on Alina's face was almost impossible to bear.

„Even if you _are_ extremely gullible and insufferable", he added, smiling slightly wider.

„There's nothing gullible about it", Alina shrugged. „The children left a lot of things in my pockets that year."

„Oh, some of that was me as well."

„Some of- " she turned to him, wide eyed.

„The sawdust, yes. That was after we had that argument last March. You were snappy at me for two days straight. I couldn't stand it. I filled your pockets with sawdust while you weren't home."

Alina gaped. „It took me a week to get sawdust out of my pockets, you-„

„As I said, you are a perfect person to prank. Very gullible."

ooo

Luckily, they wouldn't be late; both were very fast walkers and Erik knew the way to the small venue well enough already to get there on the first try. They entered the small empty hallway quietly and stood in the shadow. The receptionist was apparently on a break again. Erik really liked this particular building and its owners' apparent naivete when it came to security; he caught himself wondering if they believed in ghosts.

He nodded his head toward a small, inconspicuous door to their right.

"That's the stairs to the basement. From there, you can take another corridor and end up behind the stage."

She looked at him. "How do you know?"

"I tried it out."

Alina raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me, you did what?"

"I came here once before and tried it out. I like this building, so I explored the corridors."

"Why?"

"Because", _because it's fun,_ "because I was thinking of coming here to... I just like it here", he said. "It's a good place for musicians."

Alina gave him a very stern look beneath her dark eyebrows. Which was impressive, considering she was much shorter than him and had to raise her head significantly to look into his eyes.

"I, uh, was considering having Jack give them some of my compositions."

Her eyes widened. "Oh!"

"Don't stare at me."

She looked away quickly, turning around to look at her surroundings again. "So, you're saying we're here to see if you like this venue and the music they play, and if you do then you'll send them your compositions and we'll finally be able to hear them?"

"No, that's absolutely not what I'm saying. I haven't even decided if I'm sending anything yet, let alone to this particular-"

"Did you say that door-", she interrupted, "leads to the basement? And then behind the stage?"

"Yes."

"Would there be anyone there at this time?"

"In the basement or behind the stage?"

"Let me rephrase. Would there be any place that this corridor could lead us to, where there would be nobody else but we could hear them playing?"

He thought about it. "Maybe. There is a small wooden door that leads to the floor of the stage, just right next to the curtain, for... various theatrical purposes. When someone needs to jump out of nowhere in a play, or hand something to the actors. But it's not needed for this performance, so it's most likely locked."

"And we can hear it from there? Through the door?"

"Certainly, it's important that the person waiting knows the right moment to go."

"Why are we still here then?"

Erik blinked.

"Oh, don't pretend this isn't what you were hoping for", she grinned at him. "Don't you want to sneak around dark corridors and listen to Beethoven?"

"Well, I always want to do that, but-"

"Let's go then!"

"It might be cold. And dusty. Probably uncomfortable."

"Yes, but it's also strictly forbidden, so that makes up for it", she said. "Lead on."

Erik shrugged, checking the theatre for accidental bystanders before getting to the door silently, Alina following behind him. He pushed the knob, but nothing happened.

"I'll need one of those", he pointed at her head.

"Excuse me?"

"One of your hairpins. I'll give it back."

Alina reached behind her head obediently, taking the silver pins out of her bun. Her hair fell as one smooth, dramatic waterfall down her back as she handed one to him.

Erik silently thanked the door for being locked.

„Right, then", he forced himself to look away and turned to the lock. „It'll only take a moment."

„Are you sure nobody will see us?" Alina turned around, feeling worried.

„Yes, I'm sure", he said. „Nobody is here at this time, I checked. I'd be in a lot more trouble than you if they caught us. There", he said, opening the door. He handed the pins back to her; Alina considered putting her hair back in a bun before changing her mind and putting them in her pocket for now. She followed him into the dark, narrow corridor.

„Oh", she whispered in surprise when the door closed behind them. „It's completely dark in here." She dug around the ripped up pockets of her big coat before finding a box of matches and lighting one, holding it in front of her.

As it cast a dim light on Erik's masked face, she saw for a split second his eyes were wide with shock and anger before he plucked the match from her hand and swiftly took it out.

„What-„

„You can't just light a fire in a narrow space you know nothing about!" he hissed. _And you can't just wave that flame in front of my goddamned face._

„You can't just snatch something right out of my hand!" she hissed back at the darkness.

„Yes I can, if I have to! Don't do that again!"

She crossed her arms, silently offended.

„I can't see anything", she said after a few seconds.

„Good. We're not here to see anything, we're here to listen." He turned around, slowly walking through the corridor. He had no problem navigating the dark space; if he listened and felt around carefully, he could find his way around without a problem.

Alina obviously couldn't, because he heard stumbling and a whispered curse only a second later.

Erik stopped and sighed. „You're really bad at this."

The remark was awarded with more offended silence.

„Do you need help?" he offered, trying to make his voice polite.

After a few more seconds of offended silence, Alina rolled her eyes and let out a quiet „Yes."

„Alright. Take my hand." He held out his hand to where she was, only to realize she was holding hers out in a slightly different direction. „Here. I'm here." He took her hand in his, feeling his annoyance mellow out when her warm skin touched his glove. „Follow me."

They walked silently for a while. Erik knew the approximate layout of the building – he could always imagine them quite well in his head after spending a little time inside – and he navigated them slowly through the dark, down and under the stage.

„It really is pitch black", Alina thought out loud. „I can't see a thing. I can't even tell if you're wearing your mask or not."

He stopped dead in his tracks.

„I beg your pardon?"

„If you weren't wearing it, I wouldn't be able to tell", she shrugged, forgetting he couldn't see her.

„And that is relevant how?"

„I'm just thinking out loud, while trusting you to lead me safely through this pitch-black corridor. Trusting you blindly, one might say. I hear trust is great when it's mutual. Hah."

She felt him tug on her hand as he started to walk again. _At least I tried,_ she thought, _better not push it too –_

She didn't have a chance to finish that thought because a few steps later, she felt him stop again and put something soft and leathery in her free hand.

„Don't get too close to my head."

„I promise I won't", she smiled, forgetting again he couldn't see her, taking his hand to follow him further.

Erik led her through the dusty passages carefully until he found the spot – just under the stage, very close; so close that they would have to whisper. He would not have dared to stay here the night before, with only four musicians on the stage – but this little orchestra would be loud enough to muffle their talking, if they were careful.

Alina sat next to him, enjoying the music. As the concert progressed, Erik was silently attentive, noting the nuances of the performance. The orchestra was good – none of them as incredible as the string quartet he accidentally heard the night before, but none of them as abysmally annoying as the mysterious violinist Jonsson. Alina, free of the burden of knowledge when it came to music, simply sat and admired it, lost in thought. As she drifted off, she forgot about everything around her – the dark and cold corridor, the everyday worries that awaited her, the leather mask in her hand. The one thing she did remember was Erik breathing right next to her, and she automatically moved a bit closer until her shoulder touched his. Erik felt a tingle on his arm where they touched; he gave his best to keep silent and still and not to do something to disturb her and make her move again. The sensation distracted him at first but it melted in with the music, speeding up his heartbeat.

„Alina?"

„Yes?"

„I know I said I didn't want you too close to my head."

„Am I too close? I can move", she started getting up.

„No, wait", he stopped her. „Don't get up."

She sat back down, slightly confused. They sat in nervous silence for a few more minutes.

„I know what I said, but I'd still like to kiss you right now, if that's alright."

ooo

The musicians departed after the rehearsal with the speed that could be mustered only by people who were held at work for too long; they went out the door in minutes, chatting about the performance and who would go to drinks later. Erik and Alina waited patiently in the corridor, until it was certain that nobody else would forget anything and come back.

Erik fumbled with the small door for a few minutes until it gave out. He lifted it above his head, propped himself up on his elbows and climbed onto the stage, offering his hands for Alina to do the same. He pulled her up quickly, trying to be gentle, wondering how he got in this situation. _What is the proper etiquette for committing petty crimes as a couple?_

„This is a lovely theatre", Alina remarked, wandering around the stage. „It has... a soul, I suppose. I could imagine you performing here, even."

„I don't want that."

„It's alright", she turned around. „You can just send them your music, if you don't want to be seen."

„I _don't_ want to be seen", he swallowed, looking at the auditorium. „But I don't want to be invisible, either. Does that make sense?"

„Absolutely."

„I don't think I'd be able to handle it if I fail."

„You won't fail."

„I might."

„No", she waved her hands around her. „This is not success. The success is you pouring your heart into music purely for the sake of making the world more beautiful. Success is you going against shame, doubt and uncertainty to show it to the world, and, and it doesn't matter if it takes the world two days or two centuries to recognize or care about it. All art, all music, all that you carve from your own heart into something new is valuable, and precious, and irreplaceable. It doesn't matter how well it fits into audience's wishes. It doesn't matter how objectively good it is, because it's still valuable. It's the final scream you give into the world before you're nothing, and even if nobody hears it, it will still echo and maybe resonate with somebody someday."

Erik looked at her thoughtfully. „Do you really believe this?"

„Yes. I have never been very artistic, and I know what _my_ life's purpose is – I'm here to make the world a better place for the future. I will endure everything I have to for that goal. But you – you do things, you _create_ things because you can't help it, because they've always been within you and the only thing you can possibly do is to let them out. You made music in a ship basement, you made music with one broken arm, you will make music with or without a giant stage because it's so deeply _in you_ that you can't stop. Whatever happens on the outside – however people accept your music – that part will not change."

„I think that", he swallowed, „the most beautiful thing I can create is... it will still be _me._ "

„So?"

„It might still be... twisted. Strange. Disturbing." he hesitated. „People might think it's ugly."

„Is that the point of music? To be pretty?"

„No."

„What is the point of music?"

„I... don't know", he said. „Depends who you ask."

„I'm asking you."

„The point is... to make me continue living?"

„Exactly", she waved her hands around again. „It's not music _meant for_ people who want it to be pretty! It's music for people who want it to be _important_! To mean the world to somebody! It's the only kind of music you make, and if it's not always entertaining, so be it! Life is not always entertaining, and it's still always important!"

„Do you believe that?"

„Yes!"

„And what do _you_ think about my music?" he asked quietly. He looked into her eyes, then at his feet, then at the auditorium again.

Alina looked at him in surprise. „I think it's beautiful."

„Is that the truth?" he kept looking at the auditorium. He felt uncomfortable with her staring at him, but for this one time, he thought it might be important if she did stare.

„Beautiful doesn't begin to describe it", she said, approaching him slowly to take his hand in hers. She turned towards the auditorium. „It's... I can't remember how my life was before I first heard you play Yana's violin. It seems boring now. I spent all my life making myself someone who would fit in and get what she wanted, but when I first heard you... something in me broke. Someone else came out I didn't quite recognize. I can't ever go back to that. Your music is objectively beautiful", she followed, „you must already know that. It's complex, and layered, and your skill is amazing. You know all these things by now. But beyond that, it's also beautiful on some level I can't quite describe."

She stood next to him, her arm around his, her last words echoing around the hall after she was finished talking. After a few moments, she thought she heard a quiet sob from his direction.

Erik sat down quietly on the stage floor, resting his forearms on his bended knees.

„I'll do it for you, then", he whispered.

She sat next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. „I'll be there to listen. Every time."

After a few minutes of silence, Erik rubbed his eyes and chuckled. „You'd make a good actress. You're great on stage."

A burst of loud laughter echoed through the building before being swiftly muffled by what sounded like someone's mouth being covered by a hand, followed with a very stern „shhhhh!".

END OF CHAPTER 11

...relationships are 50% trust and 50% doing stupid shenanigans together, yes that is science don't question it

EDIT: also, if you want to see some illustrations I've made for this story let me know and I'll put them on my deviantart and link it here :)


	12. Confrontations

12\. Confrontations

 _February 1894, Zagreb_

 _One year ago_

 _Zagreb was, for all intents and purposes, a capital that could hold its own compared to any other European city - or so the citizens told themselves, at least. In reality, the city was not so big, but it was currently going through something of a golden age; and like a young man that just reached the brink of adulthood, it was eager to prove itself. The city had running water, a tramway, a cathedral (one half forever under construction, but that was not relevant), a university and many other things; it would soon get a brand new National Theatre. The fact that the outskirts were still very much rural and that taking a wrong turn at any given point meant one could get hopelessly stuck in a cornfield was also not that relevant._

 _The city itself was and had always been a very strange mixture of various influences; unlike some of its neighbors, it didn't have a clear architectural style – and as it grew bigger and bigger it only became more indecisive as to what it wanted to become. The turbulent history colored the city with Hungarian, Austrian, French and even Ottoman details. It was enough to say that the more wealthy residents spoke several languages they were being taught from birth; just in case the government changes. The less wealthy spoke one language – Croatian – and over the past few decades even the nobles started realizing it was a language one didn't actually need to be ashamed of._

 _It was a strange country to be born into, and both Alina and Amelija were very much aware of that even before they first started traveling across Europe as children. Alina's more lonely nights in London were spent craving traditional toys and sweets sold on the main market of her hometown, the sound of traditional string instruments being played by villagers that came to the market to sell their wares; missing the view of the crowd and the city from their pretty residential house in the upper town._

 _Currently in the aforementioned pretty residential house in the upper town, Amelija had to do her very best to stifle her laughter as she read her sister's letter._

 _Her parents stood next to her, arguing and panicking in lack of better things to do. This was either a very strange prank, or Alina had really jumped on a ship and fled to New York._

„ _Did you know about this, Amelija?" Her mother demanded, turning to her._

„ _I didn't", she replied truthfully. She was thankful to her stupid, annoying sister for at least not putting her in the position where she would have to either snitch or lie to their parents. It was clear which she would have done, and she really didn't want to get kicked out of her house._

„ _Listen, Amelija, this is serious", her father pointed a strict finger at her. Unlike her sister, Amelija hasn't been afraid of her father since she was ten years old, but she put on a serious face and played along obediently._

„ _She's alone on the sea, with some... strange man, and God knows what might happen to her! I won't have my daughter live in those conditions! You have no idea what's out there!"_

„ _You're right, tata", Amelija said. „It was stupid and reckless of her."_ And hilarious.

„ _We're getting her back", Mr. Boričević asserted. His wife nodded, equally furious._

„ _How will you do it, tata? The letter was clear. She's gone already." Amelija cast a glance at the letter sitting on her father's impressively old oak desk. „The date was in January, she's halfway across by now."_

 _Her parents looked at her in silent fury for a moment._

„ _What is Antoinette Giry thinking, for God's sake", her mother continued, obviously worried out of her mind beneath all the anger. „Enabling Alina's fantasies is one thing, but she's put her in obvious danger this time! It's time I had a talk with her!"_

 _Amelija shrugged again. „Perhaps. But lady Giry did send you the letter, didn't she?"_

„ _So?"_

„ _So it seems that Alina confides in her, and she'll know more about why she's decided to do this. And might even tell you, if you ask her nicely."_

 _Another long silence spread across the room._

„ _I don't know what's out there, tata, you're right. But Alina knows, she's spent the last seven years living alone and working with the lowest of the low", Amelija took a deep breath, „I think she was aware of what she was getting into."_

„ _So you're defending her, now?"_

„ _What? No, absolutely not, I think she's stupid."_ Liar. _„But she's gone already. Do you intend to personally go to America, get her back by force and then keep her here until the end of her life?"_

„ _If I have to!" her father hissed, pointing his finger at her._

 _Amelija looked at him, sincerely hoping her annoyance wasn't showing._

 _Mr. Boričević sighed deeply, dragging his hand across his face._

„ _Ivan", her mother started. „If we do that, we might as well send her to the asylum for the rest of her life, because that's the only way we'll keep her here. If she doesn't drive us all insane together with her, judging by how it was before she left."_

 _That was a fair point, and Amelija had to congratulate her mother for how reasonable that sounded._

„ _We can't just leave her there, Jelena", her father said, having calmed down a little. He rubbed his eyes, and Amelija noticed how old he seemed to look lately. „God knows what might happen to her."_

„ _I think we should talk to lady Giry", Amelija said slowly. „She always seemed reasonable to me, and I happen to know she would actually tone down Alina's... impulses, most of the time. This is not typical for her, for all I know." Her parents listened to her closely. Amelija knew almost everything about Alina, which she rarely showed; it would come in handy right now._

 _Her mother looked at her, deep in thought. Amelija was cool-headed and lacked the temper their older daughter often displayed to their dismay; she was a clever and discreet young lady, and even if she rarely showed any initiative outright, things went her way suspiciously often._

„ _You should go talk to her", her mother said._

„ _I should?" Amelija was surprised. She was going to suggest the same thing, but after a lot of discussing and subtle hinting; it wasn't supposed to be this easy._

„ _Yes. Talk to Antoinette and find out what happened. Find out as much as you can about this trusted friend of hers, and about the ship, and where they are going", Jelena said. „If we have to, we'll go to New York after her. But I'd rather not, or she might go to India next, and then we'll really never find her."_

„ _As you say, mama", Amelija nodded._

 _She excused herself and went back to her room, weighing her options. It would be more polite to write to Madame Giry first, but it might be more effective to simply show up at her doorstep before she might get the chance to think of a convincing story, if that was her intention. It would be inconvenient for Amelija, however, to simply drop everything, pack up and travel across Europe in the middle of winter. Aside from the obvious dangers of train travel and Croatian railroads not being extremely resistant to snow, Amelija had her studies and duties that she, as the only remaining daughter on this continent would have to take care of. Besides, it was unlikely that - whatever madame Giry told her - they could actually take any action necessary before Alina writes from America. It would be best to write to Giry and ask to speak with her, and then trust in her own judgement when it came to people's honesty and character. She pulled out a piece of paper and sat down by her desk to write a letter – formal, but friendly; written with politeness and respect in fluent French. Amelija knew French very well; it was the language of romance and diplomacy and both were things she was very fond of._

 _She would need some of that diplomacy in the following months, she knew that._

 _Amelija stared at her wall, deeply in thought, thinking of the best way to phrase everything she wished to convey in the letter. Of course, she could just send a very honest telegraph saying_ I am worried out of my mind STOP where is my sister please talk to me STOP _but the blunt force with which Alina normally smashed through life didn't suit Amelija very well. She could see from where she was sitting an obscene graffiti Alina wrote on her beautifully elaborate wallpaper several years ago when she came home for Christmas. Amelija retaliated by sending her a present for her birthday – a palm-sized box that looked like a jeweller's box, except filled to the brim with raisins. She wondered what was left of them by the time they reached London. Hopefully, they were impressively moldy._

 _She wondered if madame would even recognize her if she showed up at her doorstep. Her likeness to Alina was obvious – most notably in their straight nose, curved lips and brown hair they inherited from their father; but Amelija had a drop of her mother in her – hazel-green eyes, small and curvy frame as opposed to Alina's tall lankyness, fuller cheeks compared to Alina's narrow, bony jaw._ Not to mention I'm also prettier and better dressed, _she smirked to herself. Amelija herself had a fantastic memory when it came to people, so she remembered Giry very well – at least the strict-looking, thin lady she was back then, with pale skin and blonde hair pulled into an impressively tight bun. But Giry hadn't seen Amelija since she was fourteen years old, when Alina moved to London and the whole family went to help her settle in. They stopped in Paris to appease Alina's incessant begging to see „teta Giry" again, and Amelija saw her only for one day – most of which Madame spent with Alina anyway._

 _In the end, if Madame gets along with Alina so well, it might be a good idea to talk to her openly. She seemed like the type of person who would appreciate it. Amelija could sweet-talk her later on, when she saw her face-to-face. She opened her ink and started writing._

 _Dear Madame,_

 _I am writing to you because I trust your judgement and your intentions. My dear parents are desperate to know where my sister is and what made her do something so rash and extreme. I would like to speak with you when possible – for example, I could come visit once Spring comes – and ease my mind. My parents are beside themselves with worry, but you need not worry about them after I've spoken to them and reassured them – they won't do anything rash. I would like to understand what happened and how I can help Alina in this situation. Whatever she finds important enough to do this for, I will find important as well._

 _With respect,_

 _Amelija pl. Boricevic._

 _That would do. Amelija folded the letter neatly and put it in an envelope before realizing she didn't know madame's address. Surely, Alina would have some letters in her room? She could look for them; they'd have the information she needed – Amelija doubted the lady would have moved in the past few years. Alina would get mad at her for digging through her old things, but if she was so bothered by it, she was welcome to sail back and tell her that._

 _ooo_

February 1895, Coney Island

„Erik! Are you on the roof?" Alina called, leaning out of the kitchen window.

„No", a faint voice sounded from above. He knew it wouldn't stop her either way; and sure enough, a few moments later she appeared in front of the house, looking up at him with her hands on her hips.

„What?" he asked.

Instead of responding, Alina went around the house, looking for the ladder. It was very subtly placed at the back – just a few wooden planks sticking out at strategic heights, enough to climb up if one was very careful.

„Please don't do that. I'll come down." Erik's eyes followed her nervously as she placed her foot on the lowest step.

„Too late", she grinned, grabbing at the roof to steady herself while she climbed. „I'll have you know I've climbed a lot of places people told me not to climb in my childhood, and I'm still alive. I've actually sort of missed it." She reached the roof, then carefully walked over to the top and sat next to him, smoothing her skirt. „This is easier than I remember it being."

„You're more sober than you were the last time you tried", he smiled.

„Sadly, I am. In any case, Jack is down there, he's looking for you", she turned to look ahead of her. „Oh, I can see the construction site from here!"

„Yes, those two are connected, actually." He pointed his finger. „Do you see that? They've messed up the distance between these two buildings, and now it's going to be a problem. The Ferris wheel needs a lot of space not to be a hazard if there's a big crowd, and they didn't account for that. It was easier to dig at this spot because the ground is better", he pointed slightly to the left, „than at this one I specified in my blueprints. They wanted to save on foundations, and now they're having _more_ expenses because they have to start this one all over."

„Ah. Jack did mention something like that. Is there no other way?"

„That's exactly what he's going to ask me when I come down, and no, there isn't. If there was, I would have put it there, but for some reason all these people think they know better than me and now I don't want to be the one to tell him."

„Tell him what?"

„That they should have listened to me. I don't think he'll be very happy about it."

„Why didn't you explain it before? In the blueprints?" Alina asked.

Erik's tone was becoming slightly offended. „Should I have explained the _why_ of every little thing I put there? How hard is it to simply follow my instructions as I wrote them?"

"Well, if they don't know the _why,_ they don't know what's important and what's not."

"Everything is important." He turned to her, taken aback.

"Ah, so every single thing you wrote there is so self-evident that a worker who works there and knows the ground, the materials and the men, could not possibly miss your arguments for putting something there that might inconvenience him for seemingly no reason?"

Erik stared at her in a way that for some reason reminded her of Walt. _It's the disdain, I think._

"Have they not made some changes that turned out well?" she offered peacefully.

"They have", he admitted. "There were some things I could not have foreseen. Underground waters and such."

"I'd say this is just a problem of miscommunication", she shrugged. "You're not there, because you wish to be anonymous – don't look at me like that, I think that's a valid reason, if you want it that way. But the price of that is that they don't know you and have no reason to trust your judgment more than their own unless you explicitly state your arguments. What you want is authority, and you can't get that unless you deserve it, or force it in some way. And I do recommend deserving it; force is generally hard to sustain – "

"I'm not going to force anything on anyone", he interrupted. "Are you done?"

"I am, actually."

"Did Jack tell you to say this?"

"No, this is my own advice." She smiled sharply. "Jack actually told me to tell you to stop hiding and face him like a man, but I find that chauvinistic and unconstructive -"

"Oh, I'll face him alright", he stood up. "Bold of him to act as if this is not his fault at least as much as mine", he walked quickly down the side of the roof and practically slid down the ladder.

Alina shook her head as he went around the house to enter through the front door. "I can't believe _that_ part worked", she grumbled to herself.

"I have very good hearing", she heard from below. "And yours was good advice as well."

Erik entered the house to see Jack sitting in their kitchen, sipping a cup of coffee.

"Erik!" he smiled pleasantly. "I'm so pleased you decided to join me."

"The only thing you can do is to start digging the foundations again at the place I specified", Erik rambled quickly, pacing around the room, "but if I can, I'll think of some way to utilize this spot so it's not a complete waste. I won't come to your construction site and I won't bother arguing with people, but I'll write you more detailed notes for important things in the blueprints from now on, so you can argue in my place if they want to change something that shouldn't be changed. Walter can't be there every day, the school year is passing quickly and he needs to focus on his homework, so you'll have to meet me here", he finished in a single breath and stopped in his tracks.

Jack looked at him, taking another sip of his coffee.

"And this is _your_ fault as well as mine, so I don't appreciate the way you're talking to me right now", Erik added, crossing his arms.

"I have not said a single word, let alone blamed you for anything", Jack cocked his head to the side. "I just wanted you to stop avoiding me, because it was driving me insane."

"And now I'm here. Is there anything else, or is this problem solved now?"

"Solved, for all I'm concerned", Jack shrugged. "What did you think would happen? That I would scold you like – "

Erik knew he would not like where that question was going, and had no intention of letting Jack poke around his head for explanations of his behavior, so he was thankful when the door opened again and Alina entered the room. Otherwise, he would have had to get _really_ creative to get out of that conversation again.

"Hello, _men_ ", she grinned. "I'm afraid I'll have to leave you soon, I'm in a hurry. Erik, I will be late today. I have a parent meeting after classes."

"Oh", he turned to her. He noticed she was wearing her most stiff, conservative, authoritative dress; it was imposing, but would have maybe worked better if strands of her hair weren't constantly escaping her bun to dance around her face.

"Wish me luck", she poured herself another cup of coffee and turned to them, leaning on the counter. "Walter's parents are coming today."

"Are they really?" Jack asked. "How on earth did you accomplish that?"

"I suppose I just told them to stop hiding and face me, but in slightly better wording", she smiled into her coffee cup. "I actually have good news for them – Walter is progressing quickly, and as you discovered yourselves, has quite a talent for mathematics and physics. I'm afraid I'll soon be in over my head; he needs someone better to teach him those subjects."

"How will you do that?" Erik asked. "Do you have anyone at your school?"

"For now, yes. I'll transfer him to more advanced classes when it's time, and I'll explain to his tutors what he needs. He still gets defensive when he's asked to read and write too much", she shrugged. "But it's all good. What I want to see is how open his parents would be to let him continue his schooling after he's fourteen."

Erik and Jack shared an awkward look, before deciding simultaneously they'd prefer to look into their respective coffee cups.

"You don't _know_ what will happen", Alina narrowed her eyes. "They might be reasonable."

"They might or might not", Jack broke the silence. "But even so, their idea of reasonable might not be the same as yours. I'm glad you're putting in so much effort, but – in the end, there is a possibility you might get disappointed, and it's not your fault, but keep it in mind."

Alina swirled the coffee grounds in her cup in an impressively dramatic, defeated silence.

"But", Erik added, casting a quick glance at Jack before turning to her, "there is a chance that you might _not_ get disappointed, and even so, Walter will definitely remember what you did for him. Even if you can't influence his parents, it's clear you're making a drastic change with him."

Alina nodded. "I'll keep it in mind. Their word is last, after all."

"Theoretically, that is very true", Jack winked, finishing his cup. "Practically, as long as you have their approval, you can keep making a decent man out of Walt, in or out of school. So just make sure you have their approval, either way."

Alina nodded once again, putting away her cup and putting on her coat. "I have to go now. You two, have a nice day. I'll see you in the evening", she smiled at Erik. He smiled back, almost reaching to kiss her when he remembered Jack was in the room as well. Something prevented him from acting like himself around that man; he had a gnawing, irrational thought at the back of his head if Jack saw it, he would laugh at him later. It was stupid, but he couldn't shake it off.

As Alina went through the door, Erik shot another quick glance at Jack, who was studying his fingers carefully. "You should go after her, she forgot some of her papers", Jack added politely.

"Alina!" she turned around in confusion, barely a few steps from the house. "You forgot something!" Erik walked quickly after her, papers in hand, and offered them to her.

"Huh? These? I don't need them today", Alina said as she sifted through them. They were her notes for yesterday's lessons; she thought Erik would know that, as they weren't with the rest of her current ones. Meanwhile Erik looked around the street; it was early enough that he could see nobody around them.

"No, not these", he smiled as he pulled down her scarf with his finger and kissed her, holding her cheek with his other hand. "But take them anyway. Don't ask."

"Hah!" she laughed. "Alright. I almost left the house without the most important thing."

"Good luck with the Prestons", he said before running back inside.

"Thank you", Alina called back, feeling some of the stiffness in her shoulders loosen as she hurried to the school.

ooo

"Good afternoon", said the small, timid woman in front of Alina's office when she opened the door. She looked much older than Alina, but it seemed to her like she might cry if Alina raised her voice at her.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Preston. Please come in", she gestured politely. The woman obediently came in, shifting uncomfortably and looking around the room. Alina closed the door with more gentleness than it was usual for her.

"My husband can't come", Mrs. Preston hurried as Alina looked at her. "He's at work, but I'll tell him everything you said."

Alina nodded. "Please, sit down", she said, lowering herself in her own chair. This was inconvenient, not to mention probably a lie. Alina was not such a rookie to schedule a parent-teacher meeting before asking Walt when his parents worked; but confronting his mother about it would have meant giving away her source of information, so she was going to play along for now.

The problem was that this tiny lady was much less likely to persuade her husband in anything than Alina would be if he came himself; she didn't look particularly assertive, and from what Alina knew about old Preston he was probably very domineering and manipulative. Alina would have to coerce him somehow into visiting her personally. _Should I lay out a red carpet for you to take interest in your son, sir? God, I hate these games._

"Would you like some cookies, Mrs. Preston? It's an old Russian recipe. Very sweet", she slid the small bowl across the desk and smiled at Mrs. Preston sweetly, hoping she would stop looking like she was expecting to be shouted at any second now.

"No, thank you", mrs. Preston shook her head.

"Alright, I'll just leave them here if you change your mind. So, you're here about Walter", she leaned forward in her chair, crossing her fingers and remembering the speech she had prepared.

"I hope you can understand", the woman began, "he's a lively boy. He means well, really, he just-"

Alina blinked in confusion. "What?" She didn't even realize until later that she interrupted the woman mid-sentence. _Respect. Remember respect. You can be rude to her husband if he pisses you off, but this lady desperately needs some respect in her life._

"I haven't had any problem with Walter", Alina continued. "That is not why I called you."

"Oh." Mrs. Preston relaxed slightly. "Good."

"I called you here about his grades", Alina opened a drawer in her desk and took out Walter's tests and assignments. "They are improving. Walter had... vision problems, so to speak, that made it very hard to read and write. But he has been practicing, and it's improving slowly", she passed her the papers. She made a note not to include Walter's little poem from December. The woman took them and looked them over, holding them close to her face. _Oh. Walt mentioned her being nearsighted. Probably doesn't help her confidence, but it seems that she can read at least._ "See? Even his handwriting is becoming slightly easier to read. He'll always struggle with it to some degree, but if you ask him to explain his lessons, it's very clear he knows them very well", she added.

"I noticed he's getting better", the woman said, focusing on the papers. Alina noticed the fearful tone in her voice getting less prominent. "He's always been the smartest among his siblings. I never understood why he couldn't read, I tried to teach them all when they were little and he was the only one who hated it." She looked up at Alina, her insecurity seeping back into her eyes.

"You taught your children to read?" Alina asked gently. "That's admirable. You're a wonderful role model." Well, not entirely, but who cares. _Don't quote me to your daughters, lady, please._

"We can't afford to send them all to school", the lady said, straightening up slightly. "Our two oldest sons are working, but Walt is still young, and he's smart, so it made sense to keep him in school longer", she finished, before remembering herself and adding, "my husband thought it was a good idea. At least it occupied him, and you never know when you might need someone schooled in the family, he said."

Alina was absolutely sure it wasn't her husband's idea but her own, carefully suggested and hinted until he came to that conclusion himself. She wasn't going to let it show, but she was starting to think this woman might be of some help after all.

"That is exactly what I wanted to talk about", Alina smiled. "Walter is clever and promising. I would like him to continue his education, after he's finished with this school, that is."

Mrs. Preston's eyes widened, but not with the _good_ kind of surprise. "I – I don't – "

"He's progressing rapidly, and if my impression is correct, he'll be quite advanced in mathematics and physics. He could be an engineer one day", she smiled again.

"I don't know if that would be possible."

"Why not?" Alina relaxed in her chair. "This school is part of a larger community project, funded by several benefactors. It's not hard for me to arrange a scholarship for Walt if he proves himself to my superiors. He would be completely provided for."

"Would he still be with us?" the woman looked at her sharply.

"Living with you? I haven't thought of it yet", Alina admitted. "I can't see why not?"

"I'm afraid I can't make that decision on my own", Mrs. Preston cast her eyes down, looking at the table. _You mean you're not allowed to,_ Alina thought to herself.

"My husband will have to decide."

"Understandable", Alina nodded. "There is plenty of time to decide in any case, and I would very much like to talk to your husband. I have already written several reports about Walter to the principal and several competent teachers I know. For however long he's here, I'll make sure he gets the best possible education."

"What do you mean?"

"He'll get some special advanced lessons in mathematics and physics, as he seems to enjoy them very much", Alina said. "I'm not equipped to teach him that. It's free of charge, part of our program – my program – for gifted children. I've put in a good word for him. When he leaves this school, if you decide to educate him further, he'll be as prepared as any other child from any good school", she finished proudly.

"Oh", Mrs. Preston whispered fearfully. "I… thank you, but that might not be necessary."

"This is simply a program that exists in this school, by no means an obligation for you. Either way, I'm not eager to have him in classes that bore him, since as you said, he's a lively boy." Alina smiled. _Lively_ was a generous description. Walter, for all his progress and apparent friendship he felt for Alina, was an absolute nuisance when he was left to sit still and listen to something he knew already.

"I'll talk to my husband", Mrs. Preston said, not looking assured at all. "He's the head of the house, and it's his decision. Walter will probably work at the factory with him once he's fourteen. It was the plan all along."

"Understood", Alina nodded again. "Still, I'd like to meet Mr. Preston. Perhaps he would be proud to hear how well his son is doing in school."

The small lady nodded, awkward silence falling around them.

"That was all I wanted to say", Alina concluded. "Do you have any questions for me, Mrs. Preston? Anything you'd like to discuss?"

"No." she looked eager to get out of there.

"Then that's it", she offered her hand to Mrs. Preston, who shook it feebly. "It was lovely meeting you, madam. You have a very clever and interesting son."

"Thank you", Mrs. Preston said standing up. Alina led her out of the room, opened the door politely and let her out.

 _That wasn't so bad._

 _Poor woman._

 _Well, I hope I get to talk to that man sometime soon. Meanwhile, I should stay here a while longer in case she comes back. I have some letters to write._

 _ooo_

About half an hour after Alina had scheduled her parent meeting, Erik decided he might drop by the school and walk home with her. He had been somewhat busy lately and Alina didn't really have a clear schedule anyway – but he had a feeling she might appreciate it after what would probably be a stressful talk. Not to mention he didn't really want to count on the good behavior of the man who was probably the reason behind the bruises on Walter he would occasionally get a glance of.

Standing in the shadow near the school, Erik noticed that everyone was slowly leaving again; he even saw Dowling walk out slowly and solemnly. Alina was still inside, apparently riddled with work. She must have been very burdened with all that was going on; he noticed she found it hard to leave work lately, and often talked about it when she was home, or stared at some distant point in the wall with a worried look on her face.

 _Maybe she simply hates coming home, because you're there._

 _Ah, that's a wonderful thought indeed, thank you._ Erik shook his head slightly. _How lovely it is to have a mind that hates itself._

Some man, annoyed-looking with eyes suspiciously similar to Walter's, walked up to the school and waited. The little woman he was waiting for came out barely ten minutes after he arrived, but he still managed to look as if he was already losing his patience. The woman walked up to him, apologized after his snarky comments, and quietly explained something to him.

"Hah! She can sell that shit to somebody else. It's not happening", he snorted.

The woman kept talking more quickly, growing more upset.

"She did _what_ now?" he raised his voice. The woman tried to calm him down, raising her hands, and explained some more.

"Don't you tell me to calm down! That's some nerve you women got, doing it behind my back!"

She quietly remarked on something, looking annoyed, but it only poured more oil on the fire.

"Well, I couldn't come! You could have gone another time! Or told that idiot to mind her own business!"

The woman seemingly begged him to be reasonable.

"I don't care! This is all a bunch of nonsense from some snot-nosed little teacher, and if you're going to stand by and watch them dictate what happens to my son, I won't! I'll tell her myself!"

Erik saw the man stomping into the school and immediately knew what he had to do. He went behind and around the building, keeping to the shadows, until he found a particular window on the ground floor with a familiar figure inside.

Alina jumped slightly when she heard a soft tapping on the window glass and turned to see him waving at her. She hurried to the window, opening it quickly.

"Erik!" she hissed. "What are you doing? I'm not done wo-"

"Yes, I'm aware. I need you to trust me for exactly one minute, and you'll see. Can I come in?"

She stepped to the side, confused. Erik stepped on the window and jumped over, quickly and soundlessly, before pacing across the room. Alina closed the window and looked after him, completely confused. He could hear a faint sound of approaching footsteps and someone talking and arguing as he leaned on the door, resting his hand on the knob. To be fair, the man wasn't shouting – he wasn't _that_ bold yet in his anger to cause a scene in the school, but Erik had sharp hearing and could make out a fair deal of what was being said. He waited for one, two, three, four seconds before swinging the door open directly in front of Mr. Preston's face –

"I want to talk to that bitch! Some nerve she's got, minding our busine-" he stopped dead in his tracks as the door swung loudly about a finger's length from his nose, stopping just before it slammed into the wall.

Erik stood with one hand on the doorknob and the other on the frame, looking at him silently for a second as his last words echoed around them. His wife, as well as some miserable-looking woman – probably Walter's former teacher, stood next to him helplessly looking like they were on the verge of tears.

"Pardon me, sir", he said quietly, standing a little too close to Preston with the politest smile he could manage, "are you asking for me, or my business partner?" he gestured chivalrously at Alina, who watched the scene in shock.

Preston was a good twenty centimeters shorter than him, and he seemed very aware of it as he stared at him. Erik waited, still smiling sweetly.

"I want to talk to my son's teacher, about a justified complaint", Preston straightened up.

"That would be my business partner, then. Though these days she is more often called 'Miss Boričević', and less often 'that bitch'", he bowed his head slightly, still not letting go of the doorknob. He looked the man directly in the eye the whole time.

Preston's face drained of color, but he kept stubbornly silent. _Ah. That kind of man. Well. It seems I will be staying here for a little longer,_ Erik turned to Alina. "Miss Boričević. Do you have a meeting with this man today?"

She gathered herself immediately and nodded. "Yes. Would you kindly let him in?"

"As you wish, miss", he flashed one quick, wide grin her way - Alina did her best to keep a straight, strict face, but one corner of her mouth twitched slightly upwards - before he turned to Preston again. "It seems you're at the right place, despite having gotten the wrong name. Please, come in", he moved to the side for Preston and his wife to pass next to him. They both looked like they would rather disappear, as they slid as far away from him as possible. Alina shook her head reassuringly at the teacher, and she left without a word, looking positively relieved.

"We'll continue the meeting later, miss. I'll wait outside until you're finished", Erik smiled at Alina, not looking at Preston – he could see him sweating in his peripheral vision – and closed the door behind him in one swift motion. Alina looked after him as if she wasn't entirely sure if she wanted to kiss him or kill him.

"Wonderful to have you here, sir", Alina smiled, turning to Preston after Erik left. "I was hoping to meet Walt's father! Please, sit down." She gestured politely and walked over to her own chair to sit.

"No need", Preston crossed his arms. "I'll be quick."

"Very well, I agree", Alina took over before he could take another breath, "I had simply called you here to show you your son's progress. He's a talented young man, and he's doing remarkably well, especially in some classes."

"Yeah right", Preston scoffed. "You have some imagination, miss. Walt is a dumbass; he's always been a dumbass like his father before him and I'm fine with it. Don't sell me these flowery fairytales. He can't even read."

 _Ah. A lot of things are clearer now._ Alina kept smiling but her eyes lost the friendly spark, leaving two dark stone cliffs. "I have never let anyone in this school call Walter a dumbass, and I don't intend to start now. In fact, he's been transferred to some advanced classes recently, and I doubt he'll have any problems with them, judging by the speed of his progress."

"What's all this about different classes? Where are you sending him?" Preston demanded. "I didn't agree with anything."

"Not exactly sending, sir", Alina replied politely. "He's still here. Our school is still fairly new, so this is an experimental program, but children after the age of ten can attend a combination of classes that suits their capacities and interests. I have merely written a recommendation for Walter's program; I assure you it was approved by higher instances." Technically, Preston could demand to have him sent back to easier levels, but she wasn't going to tell him that unless he specifically asked her. "Including Mr. Dowling, the principal", she nodded politely. Dowling, to be fair, would have signed anything she sent him in the past month. He was so relieved by having Walter occupied for a change that he even stopped breathing at her neck and frowning at her in the hallways.

"Yeah, yeah, Anna told me", Preston waved his hand dismissively. Luckily, Alina had guessed correctly that he wouldn't be so brave to keep arguing once the principal was mentioned. Alina noticed that Anna - Mrs. Preston - had not attempted to say a single word since he entered. "And she told me you want to send him to another school when he's fourteen."

" _That_ is entirely up to you, sir", she smiled innocently. "I am simply ensuring that he has the best possible education he could have. Your wife has told me you were the one who decided to keep Walter in school longer; I am respecting your opinion that it is useful to have him educated well now that he's here."

"Not gonna happen", Preston snapped. "He's not going anywhere. We can't afford to feed a useless family member while he's off messing around in some college. I'll allow this for now, but he'll find honest work after he's done with this school, as I did and as his brothers did. And that's final."

"Very well, sir", she nodded. "Should you change your mind, there is still two years left until that decision. Until then, Walter will be well cared for while he's with us."

"I ain't changing my mind, and I can take care of him myself", Preston raised his voice. "I don't need your -"

Alina heard a loud _thump_ at the window as a snowball flew over seemingly out of nowhere and hit it hard, but without causing any damage. Preston shook and turned to look at the window, forgetting what he was about to say. Alina had to try really, really hard not to snicker as the snowball slid very slowly and dramatically down the glass.

"Pardon me, sir, the younger kids get carried away sometimes", she said cheerfully. "One second, I'll warn them."

She walked up to the window - she could see nobody out there, of course, but she still opened it and leaned out, looking down.

"You should be more careful, darling", she said sternly. "Please come see me after I'm finished with this meeting."

Erik grinned at her, huddled beneath the window, and saluted.

"That should be taken care of", she closed the window decisively and turned back to the Prestons.

"Sir, I am very pleased to have met you. You have a very clever and promising son, and I trust that you will do what is best for him", she said. _I'm getting better at lying. Is it Jack's influence?_ "Do you have any more questions for me?"

"No. I'm done", Preston turned abruptly, his wife following immediately behind him. "Stick to your own duties from now on, _Miss Borovich",_ he emphasized with obvious disdain.

"It's _Boreechevich_ , sir", she smiled. "And I will, thank you." _And if my duties should include putting you in jail once I have proof Walt's being abused, well, so be it._ She stood up, but before she could open the door for them, Preston had already opened it himself and promptly left, his wife following behind him. Mrs. Preston had not looked Alina in the eyes through the whole ordeal, and as Preston left through the door she only cast one quick apologetic glance her way.

Alina opened the door for the Prestons to leave and peeked outside her office window after their footsteps grew fainter. "I will be right out, business partner", she said. "We can go then." Erik silently waited for her to get ready and lock her office, slightly surprised when she hopped out through her window, letting it slam behind her. He caught her awkwardly by her waist and quickly put her down.

"What did the Prestons say?"

"Nothing good, but I actually anticipated this", Alina said, pushing the stray strands of hair back under her hat. "It's an offer too unimaginable for them to react well to it. I wanted to plant a seed of thought in them for now, and that's what I did. Hank Preston is loud and annoying and tiresome, but I feel like he hasn't got all the strings in his hands as he likes to think, so I've still got hope. In any case, they'll keep Walt here until he's fourteen, so I've got plenty of time to work on it."

"I'm glad it went well."

"This is the most fun I've ever had at a parent-teacher meeting", she admitted.

Erik smiled. "You're not worried I'll undermine your authority?"

"I am, actually. Singling me out among other teachers may make them resent me, and then I'm in trouble", she shrugged. "I have dealt with more than one screaming fool in my life so far. I can handle it. He's not going to attack a teacher in her workplace; he's not that stupid. It would have ended him."

"Sorry", he mumbled into his collar.

"Don't apologize", she waved her hands. "You calmed down a crisis today, and I'm thankful for it. But I think it's better for my reputation if you don't give me any kind of special treatment for being your business partner."

"I wasn't going to let him talk to you like that", he snapped in annoyance. "Special treatment would have been if you accepted a higher position than just a teacher or if you let me get you better classes -" she shot him a quick glance that cut him off immediately. Alina had not been very happy upon finding out he had pressured the higher-ups to give her the more obedient children; it caused an entire argument among them last month that resulted in them not speaking with each other for three days - well, it was Erik who didn't speak to her, to be honest. Alina simply stated her disappointment in an icy, terrifying voice and refused to back down until he promised he would never try to push her career behind her back again. It was for nothing, on top of it all, because she seemed to be naturally drawn to the naughty children and simply collected them spontaneously as the school year progressed. He had realized then he had never seen her so angry with him before that fight.

"I'm not trying to further your career", he hurried. "I'm trying to protect you, and that's something else entirely. I respect your choices, I do. But I heard Preston outside yelling at his wife, and I saw the way she winces and cowers around him, and there is nothing I can do about her. But if he so much lays a finger on you, I will find the highest tree on this island, tie him to it, and then chop them both until I get pieces small enough to make toothpicks. You can be mad at me after that, but I'm not letting him harm you."

"Why the tallest tree?" Alina asked with amusement.

"To make him wait", Erik said in a carefree voice as he scratched one of his wrists absentmindedly. "Anticipation of pain is half the torment."

Alina was smart enough not to ask him where that came from. "Ah. Clever", she shook her head, getting serious again. "Do you really think he would have assaulted me?"

"A school teacher on school grounds? No, you said it yourself, he's not that stupid", Erik waved his hand, "but men like him sometimes get funny ideas, and I wanted to prevent them before they had a chance to develop."

"I have to admit, it was highly effective", she turned to him. He saw the corner of her moth twitching again. "You calmed him right down. I didn't know you could be so terrifying."

"I have never tried to scare you on purpose. I don't want you to fear me at all", he said, biting his tongue not to add _I would like you to love me, in fact_. _Maybe. If it's not too much trouble._

"No, I'm not scared of you. It was highly amusing. Charming, even. ", she said, looking dreamily into the sky. "Lord, I'm tired."

"I have noticed you find it hard to leave work lately", he said casually.

"Ah... Yes. I do overexert myself when I have some pressing issue going on." She paused. "Do you mind?"

He ignored the question for now. "Have you always been like this?"

Alina thought about it for a second. "From what I can recall, yes."

"Didn't take you for much of a perfectionist", he shrugged. _It takes one to know one._

"It's not really perfectionism", Alina admitted. "It's a very basic feeling of worry. I find it hard to leave a place where something goes on that worries me, because I'm afraid everything will crash and burn while I'm gone. I work too much in general, yes, but when I'm worried I'll put in extra effort to check everything."

"Hm."

"It's probably not a very healthy habit, is it?"

"I'm not an expert." _Actually, my motivation for coming here was the same, which would confirm that it's not very healthy._

"Do you mind?" she repeated.

"It's your job, it means everything to you. I wouldn't ever take that away from you. I'd hate it if somebody tried to limit what I do with my time and interests –"

"So you do mind", she raised her eyebrow, smiling slightly.

"Maybe the littlest bit."

"Why not just say it?"

"I don't know." He stared at the road ahead, seething silently. _Because I just saw a great example of what I don't want to become. I'd rather suffer in silence than become Hank goddamn Preston._

"You can tell me if something bothers you."

"I don't know how", he admitted. _That's not surprising,_ Alina thought. _People who have been controlled and abused, in my experience, rarely know the difference between standing up for yourself and being needlessly aggressive._

"Hmm. Can we reach a compromise, maybe? What would be a good solution to this?" she thought out loud, looking at the road. "It's past six already, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"I could have been home before six", she shook her head. "I'll try to make a plan every morning for when I should be able to come home. I won't let myself go over that time unless it's an _absolute_ emergency."

"Oh", he blinked in surprise. "That's not such a bad idea."

"If I break my word, you have the right to be mad at me, and I'll think of something to make it up to you", she offered.

Erik turned to her in amusement. "No, _I'll_ think of something for you to make it up to me. And I'll be very petty, just so you know."

"Honestly, I'll be very disappointed if you don't do your absolute _pettiest_ worst", she grinned.


	13. Violence

_NOTE:Hello everyone! Sorry for the late update. I've had a fairly shitty week and I found it very hard to write, not to mention that this chapter contains some topics that are hard to write about for more than a few hours at a time. So fair warning, while this chapter does not contain graphic depictions of violence, it does contain mentions of it, and violence is the general theme of it, so pace yourselves if you are sensitive to stuff like this. The chapter is over 20 pages long, so there is no need to read it all at once. Hell, I didn't either._

 _I find it harder to write as the plot is gaining momentum and more things happen in short periods of time (unlike their first year when it was generally them struggling with a few prominent events), so I might start posting shorter chapters or taking longer to post them. I am very, very new to writing and it takes me approximately 100000 readings to get the content just right for my taste, and I don't want to sacrifice quality for quantity, so bear with me and we'll see how it goes. The next chapter after this one will be shorter and much happier than this one._

13\. Violence

„In any case, that's all done now. We've made new foundations, and it'll be done by May – „ Jack stopped suddenly – he saw that Erik, listening intently until that moment, suddenly froze in place and looked around. Jack looked as well, but could see nothing; the street was coated in early evening darkness that still lingered even in late February. He couldn't hear anything, or at least he thought so.

Suddenly, he did hear something, but a moment too late – a small boy jumped from around the brick wall corner of the nearest building, running for dear life with his hands covering his face and bumping full-force straight into Erik. He, taken by surprise by having recognized the small figure, couldn't decide if the proper course of action was to dodge him or stop him so he stood there as the boy collided into his stomach, pushing the air out of his lungs. _Oh,_ _I remember which ribs were broken now._ His hands balled up into fists, but he stopped himself before he swung at anything.

The boy jumped back, his already tear-smudged face stricken with fear, and opened his mouth to apologize when he recognized him as well.

„Walter", Erik said, softening his voice when he saw Walter's face. „What happened?"

Walter stood there in shock for another second before starting to run again, pushing past them and storming off behind another corner and into the night. Erik nearly ran after him when he felt a hand tug on his sleeve. He turned furiously.

„Not a good idea", Jack said.

„He's –„

„Yes, I saw. "

„Let me go _right now_. "

Jack knew that tone of voice, so he released his sleeve immediately and raised his hands calmly. „I'm saying, you'll scare him even more if you run after him now."

Erik looked at the dark street where Walt had gone. „I'm supposed to go home and tell Alina that I saw her student, crying with his face battered into pulp, and just let him go into the night?"

„Definitely, yes. She will know what to do better than you or I." Jack sighed, realizing work was done for today. „Let's go tell her."

„I have a better idea", Erik cast a side glance at Jack. „ _You_ go and tell Alina what happened, and I'll find Walt."

„He's far away by now. Do you know where to find him?"

„Yes, of course I do", Erik threw his hands impatiently. „He's scared out of his mind, he'll go somewhere he feels safe. Go tell Alina. I'll meet her home when I see what's going on. Tell her to find some medical supplies, I can't tell if his nose is broken."

„And his own home? Wouldn't they want to take care of it themselves?"

„If that's the case, I'll personally take him there. But something tells me _home_ is where he's running from." He chewed on his lip nervously. „You know Walter by now. He's not so insane to pick a fight this serious. "

„Not that we know of."

„Yes, sure", he waved his hand impatiently. „I'm going now. Tell Alina to be ready." He sped up, running lightly through the street. Jack sighed behind him, turning toward their house. This might be a long night, he realized. _I can't really leave a beaten kid either, let alone in the hands of my own well-meaning, impulsive children._

ooo

Walt wasn't hard to find; Erik never asked much about him but it wasn't hard to figure out that the places he felt safe were the school and the construction site where he occasionally ran easy errands for him. There might be some more, such as the patisserie where Alina took him a few months ago, but it wouldn't be the first place he'd look. _The most obvious place is where there would be no people at this time. There still might be kids playing outside of the school, but the construction site gets locked once the workers go home._

He arrived at the site fairly quickly and found a place in the shadows to think. _It's not enough to find him; I have to think of what to say to him after. What would Alina do?_

 _Cry, probably, among other things._

 _Well, that might not work, since the kid already seems frightened and ashamed enough. Surely she would find something to say to calm him down. He can't be the first kid she's seen in this situation._

 _She would probably comfort him and assure him that everything will be fine. Sadly, that only works because she believes it, and I can't honestly say that I do. Nothing will probably be fine with this kid. His life is a horrible mess; I have no idea how to help him and no idea why I even want to._

 _Improvisation it is, then._

Walter wasn't so dumb to just sit on the street and wait to be found, but luckily Erik was a better listener than he seemed to be. He climbed over the fence and slowly went toward the Ferris wheel. Walter was trying to be silent, but Erik knew what people's breathing sounded like after they were crying - he looked up for a bit, then climbed over the heavy metal rods and sat a few meters away from the seat under which Walt was hiding.

„Hello, Walt." He looked ahead of him, seeing the kid shift slightly in his peripheral vision.

„Hey, mister Demon. What do you want?"

„Nothing. I'm enjoying this evening in peace and quiet. I like being around abandoned places."

„Why?"

„Silence helps me think. I don't like people."

„Well, you'll have to find another place, then."

 _Screw you too, kid._ Erik tried to think of an appropriate response to that, but having found none, he simply sat there in silence hoping Walt wouldn't just bolt again. But Walt remained curled up under the seat, staring straight ahead with obvious distress. Erik noticed he was breathing through his mouth.

„Can you teach me how to fight?" Walter said after what seemed like eternity.

„Pardon me?"

„I want to learn how to fight. I overheard some guys from across the island say they jumped some masked man last summer, and he beat them something terrible."

„Uh..." Erik blinked a few times, taken aback. „I did?"

„That's what they said. One of them had a split brow, and one was limping."

„Oh. Good. Sadly, I didn't win that one", he said. „I spent a week in bed after that. I'm not a good person to learn fighting from, it seems."

„There were five of them, and they said you would've killed them if they didn't have a bat."

„See, that's the problem", Erik lost his composure and started rambling impatiently. „I can't teach you how to fight, because I don't _know_ how to fight. I know how to black out and try to kill somebody, which is not something I exactly _learned_ on purpose, and now I'm trying really, really hard to unlearn it. It's not the kind of person I want to be, and it's not the kind of person I want _you_ to become because of me."

„You want me to be a _good boy_ who doesn't fight?" Erik had never heard the phrase „good boy" uttered with _that_ much vitriol.

„I want you to learn some other way to solve your problems, yes." _I want to learn that too._

„And how am I going to do that?" Walter raised his voice. „You think _I_ want to be like this? I'd very much like to be a _good boy_ and not be like – like my old man, but I have to do something or he'll kill me or my mom one of these days! I don't care if I have to become an asshole if it means it'll stop!"

„So, you tried to fight him back? Defend your mother?"

Walter didn't answer, but Erik was quite sure he started crying again. It made him extremely uncomfortable, but after a moment's hesitation, he leaned from his seat on the rails and jumped quietly onto the platform where Walt was, sitting on the floor across from him.

„That was a brave thing to do", he said quietly, studying his own hand. „I've met your father. Unfortunately, you will always lose these fights, because he will always be a bigger asshole than you. You don't have it in you to _really_ harm him, and he does."

„Oh, screw you", Walt sobbed. „If you're not gonna help me, just get the hell away from me."

„I _am_ going to help you, if you let me", Erik said, fiddling with his glove, then the cuff of his shirt, then his glove again. After some more hesitation, he did something he'd only done in front of two people since he arrived here – Alina and Yana – and pushed back his sleeves, leaning his elbows on his legs as he turned to Walter again. Neither of them commented on it, but Erik could see Walter's eyes widening in shock. „I was once in a similar situation, and I frankly don't know what I would have done if one brave woman hadn't pulled me out. I still don't know the right thing to do. I'd want to kill your father if I was you. I'd really, really want it. But I'd be lying if I told you that helped me. Only other people, who knew how to do things other than fighting, hurting and killing, could pull me out. And that's the only thing I can honestly offer you."

Walter blinked, still unsure, staring at his forearms. _Goddammit, kid, you're old enough to be subtle, aren't you? I'm well aware how mutilated they are. It was a small price to pay to shield my eyes and ears from the whip._

„The closest person like that I know is Alina, and I know she's your teacher", he raised his hand when Walter tried to interrupt, „but I knew her before she was a teacher. She'll keep your secrets. She won't do anything you don't let her do. I can honestly promise you that, from my own experience." He pointed at Walter's face. „She probably doesn't know how to set your nose right, but luckily I do. But we'll need some help, which is why I'd like you to come with me."

„I want to stay here", Walt mumbled.

„We can do that as well", Erik shrugged. „But I'm not moving either, and I assure you I'm much better company when she's around. It's probably from all the sweets she keeps in the house."

Walter sat in stubborn silence.

 _Alright, Walter, I can wait. It's quite cold, and you're quite small. I'm sure you don't have the patience of someone who spent nine years in a cage._

After what seemed to Erik as about fifteen to twenty minutes – just long enough to prove a point – Walter dragged himself from under the seat and stood up. In the pale moonlight, his injuries looked a lot worse than half an hour ago – his nose was swelling with bloody trails coming out of his nostrils down his mouth, and his eye was black and blue. Erik wondered how much worse the rest of the kid's body was. He wasn't normally one to feel sorry for strangers, but looking at this angry, starved, beaten kid in an oversized jacket he felt a sudden flash of fury. _I wish I'd slammed that door right into Preston's face back when I had the chance. I would have done the world a favor._

„Fine", Walter stretched a little, then winced. „Ow. Let's go."

„Good", Erik grabbed the railing to jump down. „Remind me to take you here again sometime when it's finished."

ooo

Jack must have told Alina beforehand what to expect, because when Erik opened the door with Walt behind him her face showed hardly any shock.

„Come in", she stood abruptly from her seat. Jack sat across from her, his forehead wrinkled with worry. Surprisingly, Yana was there too – how did that happen? She was leaned over the stove, cooking what seemed to Erik like some kind of soup. Pjotr, calm and silent for a change, played by her feet. _This might not be a good idea, with so many people around. He's going to run, I barely got him to talk to me –_

Alina kneeled on the floor next to Walt, hugging him gently. „Walter, I heard you were hurt. I'm so glad you're alright."

„I – „ he fumbled in panic, his eyes darting over to Erik. _I'm sorry! I don't know what's happening either!_

„We can talk about what happened later, after we take care of you. This looks like it hurts. Come here", she tapped his shoulder lightly and led him to the only free chair. „As you can see, we were all very worried about you. Jack and Yana – you know them, right? – they came by to see if they could help. Is that alright? They won't stay long." It was a deliberate move on Alina's part, actually, and she was waiting for Erik to catch on, judging by the panicked looks he cast at Walter. _The child is used to having a big family, darling. Having several people who worry about him is going to calm him down, even if he's unaware of it._

„Whatever", Walter shrugged. „Does anybody know how to fix my nose?"

„I do, I told you", Erik took off his gloves. „but it's going to hurt for a bit."

„It hurts already."

„Oh, I bet. Sit down."

Walter sat obediently.

„Jack, hold him still."

Jack stood up, knowing what was next, and quickly put his hands on the sides of Walt's head, above his ears. „Be quick."

„What- „ Walter didn't have a lot of time to say anything before Erik lay his thumb and index finger on both sides of his nose and pulled it, quickly and precisely, back into place. Walter let out a single blood-curdling scream as his vision went blurry with pain.

„I'm really sorry, Walt", Erik said flatly, wiping the blood of his fingers with the rag Yana handed to him. „I would have warned you, but it hurts less when you don't know what's coming."

„I really hate you", Walt choked through the tears. He clasped his hands around his nose like a shell, not touching it and breathing through his mouth.

„I know." Erik stood up. „Do we still have that disinfecting alcohol?" he turned to Alina.

„That's... not a method I would have used", she tore her gaze from Walt to look at him.

„I know, I know. Either way, it's over now." _I'm not fine with it either, so if you could please stop staring at me like I'm some sort of child beater, that would be lovely, thanks. I feel sick already._ He shrugged, leaning on the wall. They only had three chairs anyway; he wouldn't fight to be in the center of the room.

„But it had to be done", she must have realized it as well. „Walter, that was very brave. You pulled through it like a hero. It's time for some much needed reward", she opened the small cabinet. „I would normally make you eat some soup first, but here you go. See how many of these muffins you can finish while we wash that blood off your face."

„I want some", Piotr stood up. Alina had noticed he was silently attentive the whole time; he hugged Yana's leg when Walter screamed, but seemed otherwise unbothered by the whole scene. _How is he so calm with all of this going on? Is it because the adults are acting calm? I need to remember this for later._ She dug out a bottle of disinfectant they had and some gauze. It was a necessity in their home from back when Erik did a lot of manual labor; he would occasionally get small injuries and preferred treating them himself instead of waiting to see if he would need a doctor.

„You had enough already", Yana raised her eyebrow at him. Alina walked up to Walt and opened the bottle. „Sorry Walt, this might sting. But no more surprises, I promise."

„Unghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh", Piotr rolled his eyes. Walt remained remarkably calm while Alina patted at the scrapes on his face, even though she could see he was twitching and blinking with pain. _Tough kid._

„You're going to take sweets away from the boy with a broken nose?" Yana asked. „Is that how I taught you?"

„Noooooo." He looked around the room, guiltily. „He needs them more."

„Good boy", Yana smiled, giving him a small plate of muffins. Piotr carried them carefully across the small room before giving them over to Jack, who placed them on the table near Walt. Piotr then crawled under the table and around Alina's legs, stopping to sit on the floor next to Walt. He looked at him with interest; he'd never had a friend this old before. He wondered what boys this big even _did._

„I'll be going now", Jack stood up and announced after a little while, lifting Piotr up and placing him on his own chair so he wouldn't sit on the floor. „This kitchen is getting a bit crowded. I'm glad you're alright, Walter, and don't hesitate to call me if you need anything. You know where I work", he winked at him. He put on his coat and hat, hesitating as he opened the door.

„You were very brave tonight, young man", he said, casting a quick glance in the general direction where Erik and Walter stood. Neither of them knew who he was referring to exactly, but both could swear it was the other one. Jack slammed the door behind him, smiling to himself.

ooo

„Walter", Alina started gently as she leaned back in her chair, putting down the gauze. „Would you like to tell me what happened, if it's alright?" she had cleaned and bandaged Walter's nose and the rest of his injuries according to Erik's instructions. She personally thought it would have been easier if he just did it himself, but Erik looked like he would faint if he touched Walter one more time, so she didn't bring it up anymore. Walter wasn't too eager to let him do it either, even though his anger was mellowing down slightly as he noticed his own breathing getting easier than before.

„Nothing special", Walter shrugged. „My old man is drunk as hell. He needs a punching bag."

„And that punching bag is you?" Alina asked calmly. Erik, standing behind her, could hear the fury concealed in her tone.

„No, my mom. He's pissed at her", he looked at Alina. „and at you, too. He doesn't want me to stay in school, and she kept pushing him about it a few days ago. You said it would be a good idea."

„Oh", Alina whispered, color draining from her face. Erik left his designated place by the wall to sit next to her. „It's my fault", she barely managed.

„Maybe. But it was just an excuse", Walt admitted. „He's been pissed at her, at all of us, for years. Hell knows why."

„Where is your mother now?" Yana asked, leaned on the counter with her arms crossed.

„She went to the neighbors, I think. He came at her, and then I started punching him and she took Dan and Mary with her so they wouldn't get in his way", Walt explained. „He's probably passed out by now, and she'll stay there until he gets sober." It was a well-rehearsed dance by now.

„She left you there?" Alina whispered.

„Yea. Not like she could stop him", Walt shrugged. He also felt it was more appropriate for him to get the beating, seeing as his school was the cause of it all.

„Where are your older brothers? Hank and Sam?"

„At work. They work night shifts."

„And the neighbors? They didn't help?" Yana asked further. _What kind of a place is this? If someone in my village beat their wife and son like this, all of the neighbors would be at his throat immediately. People need to realize when it's time to stop minding their own business._

„I don't know what they did. When mom left, I punched him in the stomach, locked the door and bolted." He looked at Alina. „I heard you can kill someone if you punch them in the stomach hard enough. I hope that's what happened."

„No you don't", Yana puffed. „he's your dad. You want to love him, not kill him."

Alina and Erik looked at her in shock, about to say that _that_ was not an appropriate response, when Walter sobbed a little, tears streaming down his face.

Yana walked over to him, stroking his back. „That is fine. Your father is unnatural, not you."

„We're both the same", Walter gritted angrily through his tears.

„No. You can choose to be different." Alina took over. „You don't go around beating kids smaller than you."

„I used to", Walt admitted.

„Doesn't matter. You don't anymore. You changed since I met you", Alina smiled. „It's much easier to just be born good than to learn it yourself. And I'm proud of you", she added.

Erik sat in his own seat, looking at the wall across from him. _The kid is taking all of this attention remarkably well. I probably would have disappeared by now._ „Walter, if you want to, you can stay here tonight", he said. Alina would probably hesitate bringing it up first.

„Yes, of course", Alina looked at him, then Walter again. „You can sleep in my room. We'll think of something to do in the morning."

„Please don't do anything", Walter shook his head. _You've done enough._

"I won't do anything you don't want me to", Alina hesitated, "I don't even know what we _can_ do yet. But don't worry, your safety is my biggest concern."

"I'm fine."

"Sure. Here, have this blanket", she stood up, occupying herself while she thought. "I'll give you some clean sheets, and... what else do we need?" her voice trailed off as she went into the room, gathering and rearranging things. Piotr started yawning, and so Yana scooped him up in her arms.

"Bye. We'll come back in the morning to check up", she said, looking at both Erik and Walter.

"No need, but thank you", Erik replied. Piotr waved his hand at Walter sleepily as they left. Walter waved back with visible amusement.

Erik sat in silence as Yana left, tapping some strange rhythm with his fingers and thinking to himself when Walter's voice shook him out of it.

"How'd you know where to find me?"

"Huh?" he blinked. "It wasn't that hard. It was the least populated place you liked. You even told me about it."

"And why?"

"Why what?" Erik frowned.

"Why'd you come after me?"

"Because you were injured", Erik shifted uncomfortably.

"How is it any of your business?" Walter asked. There was no anger or defiance in his voice, only genuine curiosity. Something about his bluntness still unnerved Erik; he didn't feel like discussing his motivations with a twelve year old boy.

"You're annoyingly unafraid of me, kid, do you know that?" Erik turned to him, stopping his tapping. "Alina's business is my business, as it has always been. She cares about you and doesn't want you to suffer, so I'm trying to help her with that."

"Mhm. Okay", Walter said, grabbing another muffin. "Thanks. I'd have to go back if you didn't find me", he finished with his mouth full.

The door opened and Alina came back, carrying some small clothes she had left over from the December charity, and handed them to Walter.

"Here you go. You can change into these." She looked at Walter. "I think it's best if you go to sleep now. I think it's past time any of us are coherent enough to really think about this. Can you sleep?"

"Sure", Walter took the clothes. He wasn't usually too eager to go to bed, but it was incredibly late and as the adrenaline left him, he realized how heavy and sore his limbs were. "See ya in the morning."

"Good night", Alina walked him to his room and closed the door. As she returned, she silently kept a straight face and walked right past Erik to go to his own room. He took the cue and followed right behind her.

Alina barely closed the door behind her when she started crying silently. Erik, wondering if this night would ever be over, walked over to her and embraced her. She kept crying into his shirt.

„It's my fault", she whispered.

„No. It's not."

„I told her to talk him into it."

„And he told himself to beat the life out of his son when he realized there might be a chance for him to have a better life. Whatever you do, Preston will make worse. You can't win with people like him", Erik said, stroking her back. _Don't ask me how I know that._

Alina sobbed a little more audibly.

„We'll think of something. I've got your back", Erik offered. „I won't let this happen. You were right about Walt."

„What can we even do? Tell the police?"

„Maybe _we_ can't", _especially me,_ „but I think Jack could pull some strings. We'll ask him what to do in the morning."

"Are you alright?" Alina asked, pulling away.

"I'm fine."

"You look traumatized", she said carefully.

"I have been calm through this entire infinitely long evening", he waved his hand in frustration. "I've pulled a beaten kid out of hiding, set his nose with my bare hands and debated with him the ethics of murdering his own father. And now I'm trying to help you. I don't see what I could have done better."

"I didn't say you could have done anything better", she caught his hand. "In fact, you have been so remarkably competent through all of this that I don't know what I would have done without you."

"What is it, then?"

"Those are all objectively traumatizing things", she shrugged. "I might have fainted in your place."

"I was closer to it than you'd think", he admitted. "Can we not talk about it?"

"Of course." Alina looked around and sat down. "We might have some logistical problems to solve, such as the fact we only have one bed."

"Oh, you can take it."

"And you?"

"I don't think I'd sleep anyway", Erik shrugged. "I'll be in the kitchen. I'll find some way to occupy myself. You should get some sleep before morning; Walt will still need you before he goes back."

Alina opened her mouth to protest, but he just lightly kissed her forehead and started walking out. "Get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

He settled relatively comfortably in the kitchen with a book to pass the time when Alina's door opened and she came out, wrapped in her blanket, and sat next to him. Erik looked at her in confusion as she took another book and huddled on the chair next to his.

"I won't have it", she said. "We're in this together. Walt is my student. If you're going to sacrifice your comfort for his safety, I can at least keep you company."

"That's slightly unreasonable", he said gently. "I am perfectly capable of entertaining myself. And I don't mind not sleeping. You, on the other hand, should be sharp tomorrow, because Walter will need you."

"Pah. I'm perfectly capable of being sharp after a sleepless night. Don't underestimate people who work with children", she retorted, opening her book.

"Alright", he smiled. _Good luck with that._

Of course, while Alina technically _could_ stay up all night, the chances were low that she actually would. Sure enough, within one hour she started to doze off, laying her head on her elbows on the table and barely reading. She slowly closed her eyes and, after a while, her breathing grew slower.

"You held out like a hero, darling", he whispered with amusement at her sleeping form. Alina didn't stir, so he gently scooped her up and carried her into his bed. As he turned to leave, he felt a hand tug on his sleeve. Alina, her eyes still closed and mouth in a half-smile, held onto his shirt.

"You can read here", she mumbled.

"Impressively manipulative for someone who's half-asleep", he remarked. But then again, she looked quite cute with the sleepy smile and her hair spilling everywhere. "Alright. Wait here." He picked up his book and candle and sat at the foot of the bed, leaning on the wall. Alina curled up next to him, falling into deep sleep within minutes. She slept peacefully and barely stirred through the night as Erik found his free hand occasionally reaching out to gently move the hair out of her face.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he woke up in the morning, still sitting with his book opened on his lap and Alina curled up next to him with her hand in his.

ooo

Walter woke up fairly early. It took him a second to realize where he was and what had happened; the soreness in his limbs and head reminded him quickly enough. He got up and looked around the room. It was so strange to even imagine his teacher out of her classroom, let alone be in her bedroom. It was fairly tiny, but it still fit a bed, a small desk and a makeshift bookshelf. Walter knew what homemade furniture looked like, but these were _nice._ They were made out of cheap materials, but still carefully crafted. He wondered if the weird guy made them for her. This entire house, although tiny and obviously made in a hurry, had weird details around it that didn't fit – starting with the enormous amount of paper stars hanging all around the kitchen, for example. These people were a weird nut to crack, and more amusing than Walter had previously imagined.

He got dressed and left the room to see teacher Alina was already awake, making eggs for breakfast. Walter sat at the table, wondering if it was understood that he would politely leave before breakfast or that he would politely stay for it. Politeness was such bullshit, and he hated that he occasionally had to engage in it.

"Good morning, Walter", she smiled. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes. I'll have to go home soon", he replied. "My mom will be worried. Pops might even try to start looking for me if I'm not back soon. It's much better if I find him than if he finds me, believe me." He looked around. Nobody else was in the kitchen. Maybe they already left? He must have slept a lot longer than he thought.

"I'm setting you free as soon as you eat your breakfast", Teacher replied. "I'll be damned if – oops, I didn't say that – if any child leaves my home hungry."

ooo

Walter was finishing his eggs when the two men entered the room and sat by the table. Mr. Erik was becoming somewhat more likable as he got to know him better, but Mr. Franklin looked at Walter with that concern in his eyes, like he could break at any time, which made him severely annoyed. The man probably meant well, but he didn't seem to understand him at all and Walter wasn't too keen on talking to someone who seemingly considered Walter some sort of a freak.

"I'm done. I have to go now", he announced to Teacher Alina.

"I'll take you", Erik stood up, looking for his scarf.

"You don't -" Walt started, slight worry in his voice.

"No, _we'll_ take you", Jack offered. "Don't worry about it. Just gather your things; we'll handle it. I promise we won't cause you any trouble."

Alina packed the last of the muffins in a small bundle for Walt, along with some dry fruit. She gave Walt an old brown scarf she'd had for years and never wore, insisting he wrapped his neck in it warmly all the way up and over his still-swollen nose.

"See you soon, Walt", she said. "Come by whenever you want. Alright?"

"Yeah, okay", Walt mumbled through the scarf. "Thanks for all the cake."

They spent the short walk to Walter's house in awkward silence. Walter seemed to grow more concerned as they went closer; he stopped talking and only responded to Jack's rambling in short, moody one-word replies. Jack looked over him at Erik with concern, silently begging him to take over.

"Will you be alright?" Erik asked quietly, noticing Walter's shoulders slouching under some heavy pressure. "Is your father going to be mad?"

"Nah", he shrugged. "He'll be calm by now. It's fine. He'll be sick and probably just complain."

"Hm." Erik looked in front of him, lost in thought.

"If you change your mind, you know where to find us", Jack offered gently. "We'll help you in any way we can."

"No thanks. It's fine."

They reached the Prestons' home soon – a tiny, worn-down house, bigger than Erik's but in desperate need of some repairs. Erik remarked to himself sadly that he might actually have fixed some houses last year that looked less broken than this one. _It's a shame. Somebody did try fixing this wall at some point, but their resources were obviously very limited. As was their expertise._

"Good luck, Walt", Erik said, feeling a pang of sadness as he and Jack stood on a reasonable distance.

"Bye, Mister Demon", Walt said and continued walking.

As Walter walked away and tried to enter the house, the front door opened to reveal Hank Preston standing to greet him. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair disheveled and skin gray-looking; he looked like he was having one magnificent hangover. Erik noticed cold fury on Preston's face - he wasn't in the least bit worried about Walter's injuries or whereabouts, and seemed simply irritated by the fact he left his home without permission.

„Decided to come back,?" he asked. Walt's shoulders twitched slightly, but he just shrugged.

„Where have you been?" he crossed his arms, guarding the doorway.

„Neighbors'", Walt replied.

„Yeah? Some new neighbors I haven't heard of?" Preston raised his eyebrows. „You think you can lie to me, boy?" He pointed a finger at Walter. Erik saw his hands shaking and wondered if it was from the hangover or if he was angrier than they had anticipated.

„He was with us, sir", Jack called politely from a distance, tipping his hat. „I'm an affiliate of principal Dowling. I found Walter injured, so I wanted to make sure he got medical attention before I brought him back."

Preston looked at him, confused and slightly afraid. He knew who Franklin was; some of his friends worked at the construction site and they told him Franklin usually had the last word among the bosses. „Uh, alright. But we coulda taken care of it ourselves. No need to bother with Walt, he gets in fights all the time."

„It wasn't a problem, sir", Jack smiled. Erik was giving his best to seem invisible next to him, wrapped in his scarf and hat, but Walter turned around and, surprising everyone present, quietly said, „Thank you, Mr. Franklin. Mr. Erik."

 _Oh no._ That was a mistake. Preston's foggy mind seemed to focus on Erik for the first time, recognizing him from the other day.

„It's you", he hissed. „What do you want from us?"

Erik blinked. „Sorry?"

„Why do you keep hanging around Walt? What do you want with him?" Preston started walking towards him, gesturing Walt to go inside. Walt obeyed, casting a frightened glance at Erik. Erik gave him a tiny nod. _Don't bother, kid. You have enough to worry about._

„Nothing", he replied flatly, hoping Walter wouldn't hear him from inside. „Miss Boričević deals with him. I have hardly anything to do with it." Jack was trying to think of a proper response to calm down the situation, however, having _two_ unstable, easily angered men was too much even for him to improvise that easily on, so he kept silent. _I hope Erik will have enough common sense not to get provoked until I can think of what to do._

„Bullshit", Preston snapped, standing a bit too close and talking much too loud for Erik's taste. „I see you around all the time, and now you just happen to be here when he wanders off and goes missing! Where did you take him?"

„To his teacher", Erik whispered politely. „I accidentally saw him injured in the street and he asked me for help, so I took him to the nearest _responsible_ adult."

„Fuck you!" Preston raised his voice some more until it was ricocheting inside Erik's sleep-deprived head.. „Don't give me that shit! I don't want him near you again!"

„Sir, we didn't mean any offense –„ Jack started desperately.

„I'm afraid that isn't up to me. I'm not the one seeking out Walter – „ Erik was holding onto the last delicate, frayed threads of his patience.

„I don't care! It _will_ be up to you, or I swear to God, Walter won't be the only one that goes missing! I might have another talk with your little _teacher,_ and this time I won't be so nice!" Preston spat on the ground in front of him and turned around to walk back to his house.

Erik stared at the ground. _Oh, I remember when someone last threatened and spat at me._ A small bolt of tingly needles started forming in the base of his spine.

Jack looked after Preston as he entered his house, and rolled his eyes – empty threats from a powerless man; he would not do anything and they both knew it. For all his low profile, the man knew well enough who Jack was and who he knew, and why it would be a horrible idea for someone like Preston to mess with his associates.

Erik didn't seem to follow that line of thinking, because he, after a moment of standing completely stiff, suddenly jerked forward and started walking swiftly and soundlessly toward the house. Jack immediately grabbed his sleeve.

"Hey, hey, hey, bad idea, bad idea –" he started, pulling him back.

Erik pulled forward, seemingly in a trance.

"Erik, stop –"

He suddenly turned around in one swift and eerie motion, looking at Jack as if he just realized he was still there.

"Let me go", he said in a flat, hollow tone. His eyes were completely expressionless.

"I'm afraid I can't do that", Jack replied. "This is a bad idea –"

Erik jerked his sleeve violently and Jack let go in surprise; he started walking again. _Oh, no you won't,_ Jack quickly ran in front of him, dragging him back with his hands.

"Erik, he won't do anything, it's just empty talk – "

Erik stumbled slightly, stepped back and shifted his focus from the house to Jack. He must have realized Jack wouldn't give up so easily, because he started walking toward him in that same fast, eerie, unnatural way. Jack walked backwards in front of him, still waving his hands to stop him. "Erik, calm down, what are you doing? He's just being an ass, what are you going to do, drag him out of his own home?"

" _Je vais arracher son cœur battant de sa poitrine1_ ", the empty shell in Erik's body whispered, looking at Jack. "And yours, if you don't move."

"I'm afraid I won't move", Jack said. "I won't let you do this. Stop it, right now." He tried to shove him back once again, harder this time, but Erik stepped back in one swift motion and, as Jack's hands met with thin air and he lost his balance, hit the side of his head with his left fist.

Jack stumbled and stood hunched over, holding his temples as his vision blurred. He felt a trail of something warm pour out of his nose; he wasn't so badly injured, but his nose had always had an annoying tendency to bleed whenever his head was hurt. _Oh, that's it then. Time to find a new business partner._

"You fucking maniac." He lifted his gaze up, putting down his hands and balling them into fists, ready for the next punch.

Erik stood in front of him, fist still in the air and eyes widening as he seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in.

"I – what did I do?"

"Nice left hook, asshole." Jack wiped the blood with his sleeve.

"I hit you!"

"No shit", Jack spat out. He used to be into boxing in his younger days; he was not so sensitive to not be able to take a few punches, but he had to admit Erik had quite a swing for someone who seemed so skinny. Not to mention the left-handedness; he didn't expect an attack from that side. He was still slightly dizzy.

Erik grabbed his head, pulling at his hair. "I hit you! Are you hurt? Did I hit your nose? Why did I –"

Jack was starting to get confused. Was he _trying_ to confuse him? Was this a ploy to get him out of his way? "You don't remember?"

"I – " he stopped, his eyes darting left and right in panic. "I remember some things, but –"

"As for _why,_ you hit me because I tried to stop your incredibly stupid ass from making a horrible mistake", Jack patted at his temple lightly. _This will leave a lovely bump. I'll be sleeping on my other side for a while._ "What were you going to do, fight Preston? Kill him? Would that have helped you? Or Alina? _Walter_?"

"I – " his breathing grew frantic. "No, no no – I don't want to do that!"

"Don't lie." Jack frowned in disdain.

"I would have done it, but I don't want to!" he pulled harder at his hair digging his nails into his scalp, trying to focus on the pain and not the panic that threatened to send him spiraling into madness again. He leaned on the wall behind him and hunched over slightly, trying to think. Needles and tingles still shot through his spine and black spots were still in his vision, but they weren't spreading; if he focused on one spot on the ground and breathed deeply he could maybe stop himself from slipping away.

Jack watched him silently for a few moments. _He's insane. I'm insane, too, if I stay near someone so unstable. Who's going to be next? Is he going to kill someone someday and claim not to remember it?_

He stood and waited silently until Erik's breathing slowed down to normal again.

"Does this kind of thing happen often to you?" he asked.

Erik waited a few moments to answer, not looking at him. "Sometimes."

"When?"

"When I'm in danger."

"Whenever you're afraid?" Jack raised his eyebrows.

"No, no", he shook his head. "If that were so, I'd never be conscious. Only when I'm in real danger."

Jack felt a little bit of his anger melt off at that confession.

"And what do you do then?"

"I don't know exactly", he sighed. "I black out and start attacking, or running. By the time I'm back in here", he shook his head, "it's already over. Sometimes I don't remember anything, sometimes I do."

"And this time you stopped", Jack remarked. "That doesn't fit."

"I came back when I saw blood", Erik whispered. "I've never hit a – a friend before." That was true; the shock of seeing Jack injured and bleeding at his hand awakened a different sort of feeling – sorrow - that pushed back the fear and anger. He didn't mean to say it, much less admit Jack was his friend, but it wouldn't mean much anyway after he was ready to rip him in half moments ago. _It was nice knowing you, Jack._

"You weren't in danger now", Jack pressed. "He went to his house. Why follow him?"

"He – he threatened Alina", Erik swallowed; the black spots returned as he remembered Preston's words. "I had to finish him right away, or he would have come when I wasn't looking."

"What?" Jack hissed. _What kind of insane, warped logic is that?_ "He will do nothing of the sort. Do you think you're the only one looking out for Alina? For your friends? Preston will get all the warning he needs to back down, and Alina will get all the protection _she_ needs in the meantime, but we will do it my way. None of this… whatever the hell this was."

Erik buried his face in his hands. "Thank you."

"No problem", Jack replied coldly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going home. I've had enough for today." He turned around and started walking home.

After a few steps, Jack stopped, sighed and turned around again, returning back to look at Erik who was still staring at the ground through his fingers.

"That's pathetic", he remarked. Erik glanced at him for a second, but showed no other sign of movement or understanding.

"If you want to apologize, apologize like a man", Jack scoffed. "These dramatics mean nothing to me. Stand up straight and own up to your actions."

"Would it matter?" Erik scowled bitterly.

"Does your self-loathing matter to me? I get nothing from it. If I wanted you to suffer, I could've just hit you back. Apologizing might work, because I actually might get the feeling you give a damn how _I'm_ affected by this."

Very, very slowly, Erik lowered his hands from his face and straightened up.

"I apologize. I'm sorry I hit you", he recited, looking at some distant point on the horizon.

"Apology accepted", Jack nodded. "Now, this _was_ our first fight, so I think it should be commemorated. I have some good whiskey in my house."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't let it get to your head," Jack smiled. "That was one fantastic left hook, but the next time you try that, I'm putting you on the ground."

"You'd like to think that", Erik's mouth twitched slightly upwards.

"Well, we'll toast to never finding out", Jack winked, leading the way.

END OF CHAPTER 13

*1 "I will rip his beating heart from his chest"


	14. The Good Whiskey

NOTE: _Hey everyone! This weekend is my birthday, so let's all take a break and do something less serious. The plot will continue soon, but for now, enjoy this little piece of sugar. Have a nice weekend!_

14\. The Good Whiskey

"You know, you've been obviously close to snapping since we found Walt", Jack said later as he poured whiskey in two glasses and passed one to Erik. "Why not just take a break, if it was too much for you?"

"I have been close to snapping for about thirty years", Erik sighed, downing the whole thing in one go. "The only break I'll ever take will be when I die."

"I see." Jack poured him another glass, hoping he wouldn't regret it; luckily, Erik seemed to have enough common sense to pace himself a bit with that one.

"And I promised not to", Erik added, just in case Jack wanted to ask the obvious _why not die then? Why are you burdening yourself and others with all this nonsense?_

"Not to die?" Jack turned to him in surprise. He, on the other hand, would not have thought in a million years to ask someone why they hadn't killed themselves yet.

"So to speak. At least not to die for nothing", he shrugged. He had no idea why he was telling Jack all of this; he hadn't spoken about it in months, as he never told Yana about it and Alina didn't mention it. Was he actually developing a _need_ to confide in people? _Well, maybe just the ones that pour me large amounts of alcohol after I threaten to kill them._ "it was a... sort of pact. I promised if others would let me live like a human, I would act like one." He waved his hand dismissively. "Obviously, I'm not good at it."

"I've seen men throw punches over much smaller offenses, and they didn't spiral into such existentialism because of it", Jack smiled. "Was that pact you made with Alina?"

"Yes", Erik mumbled in embarrassment.

"Is that why you're so much calmer around her?"

"Yes and no. Part of it is the promise. The other part is the fog", he blurted out.

"The fog? Did I hear you correctly?"

"Uh... it's hard to explain. The anger is... sharp. The blackouts start with needles in my spine", he looked at the glass, swirling the liquid around. "Alina puts a sort of... cotton fog in my head, whenever she's around. It's like having a splitting headache and laying your head down on soft pillows", he rambled. _Sometimes literally._ "It doesn't cloud my thinking, just… makes me less alert. It softens the spikes, and they don't appear so often", he finished barely above a whisper.

"Well, that was a very beautiful way of putting it", Jack remarked, deciding maybe Erik had deserved a little more of the whiskey. "You're an interesting combination of poetry and violence, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Sadly, yes, they have." Erik finished his glass.

Silence spread around the room.

Jack wasn't going to let this evening end on such a sour note, and since his companion seemed to be spontaneously sinking into alcohol-fueled sadness, _he_ would have to do something.

"Never really found a girl like that, myself", Jack laughed. "Not my time to settle down yet. I have things I need to do first."

"Hmm." Erik wasn't sure what the appropriate response to that was, so he erred on the side of caution again.

But then, as silence spread once again, he realized that _may_ have been the rude thing to do.

"Uh, what things?" he offered.

"Oh, you know", Jack waved his free hand. "Wild adventures. Getting filthy rich. Seducing many questionable ladies before finding one who can outsmart me. I've done some of those, but I'm not that old that I can't have some more fun", he laughed.

"How old _are_ you?" Erik asked. He realized again he had the bad habit of not asking people the most basic questions when he met them; truth be told, his other bad habit of asking them at inappropriately late times wasn't helping much either.

"Thirty-four."

"And what have you done so far? Of those things." Erik leaned forward in his seat slightly. The alcohol in his blood was making him less withdrawn; he was slowly finding it easier to think of questions to ask.

"Oh, mostly adventures. I joined the army for two years, but that didn't work out. After I finished school, I got into boxing, and I even got pretty far before I realized taking one too many hits might leave me less able-minded than I would prefer, so I stopped. I worked as an investigative journalist for years when I was in my twenties; I've covered so many murders, scandals and intrigues that you wouldn't believe", he laughed. "I traveled all across the country. I had ideas for how I'd get rich and famous - gold, stocks, trade, you know. All those things that look much easier and more exciting when you don't actually have to do them." he paused. "I came back home a few years ago. I had family here, and… they had some trouble, so I tried to help. Mafia got to them, and they had to move in the end. But I can proudly say I took part in the recent purge of crime across this island", he finished. "A lot of people still owe me favors around here, and I can cash them in as long as I keep quiet about it."

"That's a lot of interesting things", Erik said, looking genuinely impressed.

"I'm sure you've done plenty of adventuring yourself", Jack smiled. "What are your stories?"

"I have none. I lived alone all my life, and never went outside much." Technically, that was true.

"Surely you have _some?_ You don't strike me as someone who hasn't lived much, not at all. You're one of the toughest mysteries to crack, and that's coming from a journalist. I have known you for half a year, and I still don't even know why you're wearing that mask all the time", Jack gestured.

"Ngh." Erik sat back and crossed his arms. "Of course, _that_. Just in case I forgot it was there." He would have been a lot more offended by this if he was sober, but right now he didn't really have the energy for that.

"I even asked Alina, and she didn't help me much either", Jack shrugged.

"What did she say?" Erik asked carefully. _How did she describe it?_

"She said, 'he wears it because he's stubborn', rolled her eyes, and changed the subject", Jack laughed. "I won't push it. I asked you here to have a good time, not to interrogate you. Stop being so annoyed."

"I'm _not_ ", Erik said in an annoyed tone, feeling very annoyed. "There is no good _story_ behind it. It's a horrible, disgusting... it has always been like this since I was born, and it keeps causing me problems _constantly_ no matter how much I try to hide it. I am so, so tired of it, frankly, and I don't want to talk about it, because it's all people ever notice about me, and I _never_ get a single waking or sleeping moment to forget about it!" he took a breath. "I _can_ be other things, not just…"

"You _are_ many other things", Jack hurried. "I'm sorry I asked."

"Alright."

"For example, I would bet that you're good at chess."

"I don't know. I might be."

ooo

About an hour and two lost matches later, Jack remarked, "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."

"Oh, I don't know", Erik grinned. "I'm having fun, to be honest. Another one?"

"I thought you didn't know how to play chess", Jack narrowed his eyes at him. He reached for the whiskey again. The level of liquid in the glass was getting concerningly low.

"No, no, that's not what I said. I said I've never played it _with another person_ ", Erik nodded with a very smug look in his eyes, passing him his glass.

"Maybe that's good", Jack retorted. "If you're this insufferable about it."

"You're a sore loser, aren't you?" Erik kept smiling. "There's no need to hurt my feelings. Didn't we just establish that we're friends?"

"Ngh." Jack groaned, pouring them another drink.

"You're my first male friend", Erik smiled dreamily, looking at some invisible point in the wall.

Jack stopped, bottle still in mid-air. "Excuse me?"

"Hahah, yes, that sounded completely wrong", Erik laughed a little. "Did you think I was going to say I've had many _female_ friends? I've had exactly _one_ friend before I came to New York, and she was my mother. My _real_ mother, not the woman that gave birth to me", he stopped for a split second. _Well, there was also Christine, but for all of our time spent together, I never really treated her as a friend. Maybe that was the problem._ "I don't go about _introducing myself_ to people. You're my first male friend, ever. I wonder if that's different. Is it different? Talking to Yana is easy, but I don't imagine her personality is exactly the _normal_ for most people. Talking to Alina is easy in some ways but hard in others. You have to look people in the eye when they speak to you, Antoinette said so, but hers are so easy to get lost in", he finished, smiling serenely to himself.

Jack stared at him for several seconds completely still before saying, "You're the strangest drunk I've ever met."

"Only when I'm drunk?"

"Keep in mind you have so far avoided making any sort of contact with me aside from what was absolutely necessary, and now you're telling me all of this."

"That was before I punched you in the head. And then you invited me to your house and gave me your _good_ whiskey", Erik nodded. "Am I the strange one here? Is this how men become friends? If I'd known that, my life could have been easier", he started to laugh again. "It seems that lately I can only act nice towards people after they have seen me at my absolute worst", he thought out loud, getting serious again. Jack was starting to get a headache just from trying to keep up with his moods as they changed.

"Not the best way to go about it", Jack decided it might be best if he hurried a bit with his own whiskey and just played along with whatever the hell was going on.

"It does sound quite stupid, doesn't it? And yet, the one time I didn't do it, it backfired in such a monumental disaster I almost died. It seems that it's very dangerous for me to pretend to be something I'm not." he sighed. "Not to mention, when they get disappointed it's really…"

"You don't have to say anything you don't want to", Jack remarked, because it seemed like Erik had forgotten the difference between saying things in his head and saying them out loud. _Maybe he never knew the difference in the first place; he just jumped straight from one extreme to another._

"That's nice of you", Erik replied with the gentlest look in his eyes Jack had ever seen him cast his way. "You're a good person, Jack, better than I deserve. As are the other people who have granted me the gift of their company. I don't know how that happened, but I'll do my best not to let you all down."

"I believe you", Jack hurried. "And I don't think it's true. I would not be around someone if I didn't think they deserved my company. I actually value myself quite highly", his mouth twitched upwards in a crooked smile. "Alright, I think we should play another one before we call it a night. Black or white?"

"Black."

"You're annoying me with this", Jack laughed. He put one black and one white pawn in each hand, hiding them behind his back. "Alright, pick one."

"Do you really think I won't know where the black one will be?"

"Will you?"

"It will annoy you even more, Jack. I'm a better illusionist than you. Just give me the black one."

Jack rolled his eyes, pulling his hands back out and handing him the figure.

"I was bluffing", Erik said cheerfully, taking the black pawn and sorting the figures on the board. "I had no idea where it was."

ooo

A few hours later, Alina looked up from reading her book at the kitchen table to see Erik entering, very slowly and carefully with an uncharacteristically embarrassed smile on his face.

"Where have you been?" She raised her eyebrows in amusement.

"Jack's", he gave her a dreamy smile. "I punched him in the head, and now we're friends." He walked shakily over the room, kissed her forehead, and crashed into his bed without another word.


	15. Investigations

NOTE: I just wanted to preface this by saying Amelija's name is pronounced Amelia (a-meh-lee-a), but Croatian people sometimes like to add that useless 'j' in that you don't actually pronounce, just to mess with foreigners I guess. Also, thank you reddeath92 for the birthday wishes :)

May 1894.; Paris

One year prior

 _Dear Amelia,_

 _Of course you can come. I assure you that Alina's travels have been paid for in full and her safety is secured, as she is with an old and trusted friend of mine. I understand that you and your family have not been properly prepared or informed about this – Alina does have a certain flair for dramatic disappearances – and I will happily answer any questions you have. You can come visit me in May if you'd like, anytime. I'm looking forward to speaking with you._

 _Kind regards,_

 _Antoinette Giry._

Amelija loved Paris.

She loved the sights, the sounds, the smells, the fashion, the food and the people; she loved the music, the buildings and the streets, she loved the weather (slightly colder than in her hometown) and she loved the feeling of adventure all of those things gave her.

Right now, unfortunately, she would not be able to enjoy any of those things until she took care of what she came here to do.

She stepped out of her tiny rented room with anticipation and insecurity - not in herself, but rather in the whole situation she was supposed to handle. She was reasonably sure that whatever was waiting for her here, she would do as well as anyone could in her situation; she simply would have preferred to have a clearer idea of what the situation was. She hated being caught off guard and she hated being out of her element.

She vaguely remembered where Madame lived - she would not have been able to find it by memory alone, but luckily, Alina's room had indeed provided her with enough information on her address and how to get there (the instructions were clear enough even for a fool that didn't speak any French, so Amelija who spoke it fluently would have no problem navigating the streets at all).

She arrived at Giry's apartment in late afternoon to realize that neither Madame nor her daughter - _Meg, was it?_ Amelija vaguely remembered her - were home. Inconvenient, but nothing terrible. Amelija would simply wander around and try to have fun around the city, and come back later. French people didn't exactly go to bed early - Amelija wasn't very concerned that she would be able to come late enough to offend them or wake them up.

She wandered around Paris, looking at shop windows and listening to street musicians when she remembered that Madame worked in the Opera - incidentally, one of the places Amelija wanted to visit. It might be a good idea to go and leave a message there for Madame Giry, and while she's at it she could see if they had any performances soon she might be interested in.

Amelija made her way toward the venue - it surprised her to see that the beautiful building seemed to be under some construction. Some parts were roped off and showed slight structural damage that looked recent; _what in the world happened? Why does that wall look charred?_ It was all slightly strange, and she looked around the half-empty lobby in surprise until a young, blonde girl stopped to ask her if she needed anything. Of course, it was too early for a performance, and they were likely going through rehearsals now. She was probably acting strange wandering around the lobby by herself.

The young blonde girl Amelija recognized as Meg Giry looked at her with suspicion.

"Hello", Amelija smiled. "I'm looking for Madame Antoinette Giry; I'm an acquaintance of hers. You're Meg, aren't you? Maybe you can help me."

"I'm Meg, yes", the girl said slowly.

"I'm Amelija Boričević", she clarified. "You probably remember my sister, Alina? She's your mother's friend."

"Ah, Alina", Meg's eyes lit up with recognition. "Yes, I remember. Is she well?"

"That's what I'm here to find out", Amelija said. "I'd like to talk to your mother about her, if that's alright."

"Oh." Meg frowned. "She has classes for a few more hours. Would it be a problem if you came later or maybe tomorrow? She can't really leave; we're in the middle of preparing for this new performance - "

"No, not at all. I'll be here for a few more days, anyway. I can wait for her so we can make plans, if that's alright", Amelija offered. "I won't bother you, you'll hardly notice me at all."

"Oh, it's no problem", Meg lit up. "You can wait with me in my dressing room, I'm free today anyway. I was going to meet up with a friend later - in fact, you can come with me, if you'd like." Meg remembered Amelija vaguely - but having been brought up by her mother she adopted her need to make people feel welcome and included whenever she could. She didn't want the foreign lady to feel alone; surely Christine would understand if she joined them just this once. Meg led her to her room - tiny, but impeccably tidy. Amelija was normally very pedantic herself, but even she felt slightly nervous around ballerinas and their often obsessive neatness.

"Thank you. I would like to, if it's no problem", Amelija admitted. She was a tiny bit lonely here in Paris; she wouldn't mind it for a couple of days but having some company would be nice, actually.

"How have you been, anyway?" Meg asked, pulling up two chairs. "I haven't seen you in years. How are your studies going?"

"Well enough. I was planning to go to Vienna this summer. I found a very good math tutor."

"Vienna sounds incredible. I've never been there."

"Well, it's relatively close to my city", Amelija grinned. "It's practical, now that Alina is gone, that I don't wander off too far for too long."

"Are you going to visit Alina in London?"

"No. You didn't know?" Amelija asked. "Alina left for New York a few months ago. She said your mother helped her arrange it."

"Did she?" Meg blinked, taken aback. "Is that really so?"

"Yes. You didn't know?"

"Oh, I know she helped take _someone_ to New York, though she hoped to keep it from me, but I didn't know it was Alina."

"From what I heard, she wasn't alone, either."

"Hmm." Meg looked away, biting her lip.

"Pardon me saying, but I really feel as if you're keeping something very unpleasant from me."

"Oh, it's nothing. I don't actually know why Alina left, and I have some theories why she might have, but I think you'll be better off asking mom. I don't want to worry you for no reason."

 _I'm already worried for so many reasons,_ Amelija wanted to scream, but decided against it. Patience would be the best approach here; there were clearly many secrets she had to unearth and now was not the right time to press on it, having just arrived.

"What are you practicing for?" Amelija asked, trying to keep the conversation going. If this girl was kind enough to invite her out with her friend, she would at least make herself good company.

"La Traviata, actually. Mom is very busy with the ballerinas - she put the younger ones in Traviata; they're quite a handful now. First big performance always gets to your head."

"And you're not in it?"

"No, I'm preparing for Romeo and Juliet. I'm hoping to get a major role, so I'm focusing on that one", she said, blushing slightly. "My friend, she's a soprano, she just auditioned for Violetta in Traviata. It would be so nice if we both got cast in lead roles at the same time. We always used to do everything together."

"That is so sweet. I hope you'll both get it", Amelija smiled. During her childhood, she didn't have many close friends - in fact, she didn't have many close friends even now. She kept a large circle of very entertaining and respectable people around her, but aside from her sister and one cousin, she realized she never actually had someone she did everything together with.

She suddenly remembered Alina was half the world away with no intention to come back soon and felt a sudden, strong wave of sadness wash over her. It was so funny until now; she only now realized how alone she would be.

Amelija kept chatting with Meg well into the afternoon - aside from having nobody to talk to on this long trip so far, she did find Meg to be enjoyable company. Sensible, but stubborn and proud, Meg shared a lot of similar worldviews with Amelija and it made them both relieved to have someone they could talk openly with. Meg found herself telling a lot more about herself to the foreigner than she expected; it seemed that she shared Alina's particular penchant for getting people to talk about themselves.

It continued until the girl Meg was waiting for knocked lightly on the door, smiling excitedly at them. Meg let out a tiny scream and hurried to hug her; they embraced tightly for a moment while Amelija studied the newcomer.

The other girl - seemingly a contrast to Meg; all brown curls and shyness in place of Meg's confident, serious demeanor - greeted Amelija politely and introduced herself as Christine. Meg explained this was her best friend, and they were planning to go and have tea together, but Amelija was more than welcome to join them rather than wait for Meg's mom all alone. Amelija accepted and thanked them, looking at the other girl with interest. She was noticeably pretty - well, all the theatre girls were, but Amelija found that there was something captivating about Christine's hazel-brown eyes, gentle movements, and overall air of dreamy innocence. _She probably gets a lot of unwanted attention. A withdrawn person like her must be really annoyed about it all. Poor girl. At least you'll probably marry well._

"How are your wedding plans going, Christine?" Meg asked cheerfully as they walked out of the theatre and into the street.

"Everything is exhausting", Christine sighed. "You know when you're a little girl and you fantasize about getting married in some crazy setting, escaping with someone on a white horse, all romantic and spontaneous?"

"Haha, yes. We used to play like that all the time."

"Well, in real life it's a lot less like that, and a lot more organizing of incredibly boring and tedious details of the ceremony. And rehearsing everything. My entire life is one big rehearsal right now." Christine rolled her pretty, round eyes. "But I shouldn't complain. Getting married for someone you love makes it worthwhile, even if the process is so long and exhausting, and I should be thankful for it", she added, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Will you keep performing after you're married?" Meg asked. Amelija noticed a tense note in that question underneath the casual tone - obviously, it held a lot more weight than she let on.

"I talked to Raoul a few days ago", Christine smiled. "His family is not too happy about it, they say it's beneath a Vicomtesse to be seen on the stage. But he said they're mad at him already for marrying a commoner, and he doesn't care what they think, and I should do what makes me happy", she finished, beaming. "I'm so happy, Meg. I always thought I would have to choose between love and music. This is more than I could have ever asked for."

"Wonderful!" Meg jumped a little with excitement before remembering herself. "We'll still see each other!"

"Of course", Christine replied gently. "Did you think I'd forget you?"

"Well, now that you'll be a posh little lady -" Meg snickered.

"Oh, psh, there aren't enough stuck-up in-laws in the world to make me forget who I am", Christine giggled. "Even if they are quite pushy."

"You're saying that now", Meg grinned. "A few months from now, you'll be walking with your powdered nose up in the air all important -" she stuck her head high in a wonderfully entertaining impression of a proper old lady. If anything, Meg didn't lack acting talent; Christine burst out in amused laughter.

Amelija laughed loudly along with them, reminding them she was still there.

"Sorry, we didn't mean to - that is, I know you're -" Meg fumbled.

"Don't apologize", Amelija interrupted, smiling. "That was hilarious. It was a very good impression of my great aunt, actually. She's always ripping the clouds with her nose."

Christine giggled. "That's a good way to put it."

"It's an expression, but it's funnier in my language. Come to think of it, most offensive expressions sound much better in Croatian. I wonder what that says about us."

The girls sat down in the nearby cafe across the street - ordering tea and chatting cheerfully all the way. They obviously had some catching up to do, and Amelija felt perfectly alright with just sitting there and listening for their stories for now - if anything, they seemed to grow more comfortable around her, at least. She shared a few anecdotes from her travels - she didn't want to seem like some stuck-up lady that only came to listen and judge them.

"Do you think you'll get the part of Violetta?" Meg asked cheerfully.

"I might, I don't know. I'm not really a known name, so I don't know if I would attract audiences", Christine admitted.

"But you're so good!"

"Thank you", she blushed slightly. "Even so, if I don't get this one, at least we'll have more time together. I'll get something big soon, I'm sure of it. It doesn't have to be this particular opera - I'm in no rush. I do have to plan my wedding as well."

"At least now that _he_ isn't around anymore", Meg scoffed. "You can do whatever you want with your time now."

"It really wasn't that simple, Meg", Christine replied quietly, looking into her teacup.

"Sounds simple enough to me", Meg replied sternly. "And don't try to convince me that you haven't been happier lately. You've practically blossomed - you're going out, you're getting married, you look much livelier!"

"I _have_ been more carefree", Christine admitted, blushing.

"Pardon me, I don't know what's going on", Amelija chimed in. "Could you give me the short version, if it's not too private?"

"Christine had a - suitor, some would say", Meg said, paying little mind to Christine opening her mouth to start telling a story - "though, more so, she had a stalker who helped her only to try and take advantage of her, but that didn't happen and now he's gone."

"Good riddance", Amelija tipped her cup at Christine. "May he rot. I wish you all the best in your marriage." She was actually very curious to hear what the girl herself had to say - she didn't seem at all happy with her friend speaking in her stead. _You can't be another person's backbone, Meg. They'll either grow their own and fight you, or turn into mush completely. And both options are terribly exhausting._

"No, no, that's not what happened", Christine raised her voice only slightly for the first time, furrowing her brow with a stern expression. "E- he didn't have any intention to use me. He was my music teacher, and he _did_ teach me to sing, for free, and asked nothing in return for it. What happened later was - more complicated", she trailed off. She suddenly looked scared.

Meg, on the other hand, looked annoyed. "And the fact you lived in absolute fear of him for six months and didn't do anything other than study? You've forgotten about that? Or that he threatened and kidnapped you in the end?"

"No, I haven't", Christine replied, her eyes glistening with anger as she remembered it. "I don't want to see him ever again. But I don't think he meant to make me miserable, and Meg, I know what you think about good intentions, but that should be said. Some people are more broken than evil. He's gone now, God knows if he's alive, so I will lose nothing by honoring at least the good things he did."

"Hmm", Amelija said. She sometimes wished her own sister, over half a decade older than this girl, would have the same kind of nuanced view on things when it came to their own father - even if Amelija generally shared Meg's lack of patience for difficult men and their _intentions_. "In any case, he's gone now, from what I've gathered? Where is he?"

"I don't know", Christine replied. "Nobody knows. He vanished a few months ago, last December. He promised never to look for me again, and then they never found him."

"Uh-huh. Who never found him?" Amelija raised her eyebrow.

"The police - after he took me, they followed him - and Meg's mom", Christine nodded at Meg. "I asked her once, Meg, sorry. She said he was gone, and that was that."

"Your mom?" Amelija turned to Meg.

"Ah, yes", Meg scoffed again with righteous fury. "She tried to talk the police - and the mob that gathered to free Christine - to let him go, some nonsense about how he's not dangerous and how she'll calm him down and how he will trust her - in the end, it was all for nothing, because nobody found him including her. That was the end of it. That reminds me, I'll go get mom and tell her you're looking for her, I think she's just about to be done with her students", Meg rose from her chair and walked lightly towards the exit. "I'll be right back."

As Meg left, Amelija stared at Christine with what must have been scorching intensity, because the girl blushed again and cast her eyes down, unaware of what Amelija was thinking. Amelija, on the other hand, did not believe in coincidences, and the picture she was piecing together left her paralyzed and unable to make small talk. Her mind raced in circles, in absolute panic, trying to think of the best thing to do. In the end, Christine broke the silence, growing uneasy with Amelija's sudden change in demeanor.

"So, uh, how come you've come to Paris?" Christine said nervously. "Just visiting?"

"I'm here to see Antoinette Giry because my sister decided to travel suddenly across the Atlantic for reasons I don't completely understand, with a person I don't know, and apparently Madame is the one that arranged it", she said in a flat tone, looking straight into Christine's eyes.

The pretty girl's face suddenly drained of all color, leaving a pale, ashen mask of fear beneath it.

"Oh."

"You understand that it might be important to me that I hear more of this situation."

"I - I do, but there's not much I can tell you or do about it - who is your sister?"

"Her name is Alina. She's twenty-five, and she used to work in London as a teacher. Before that, as a volunteer in an asylum."

"Does she have friends in London? Would they know she was gone?"

"Not many. But they would notice if she was just suddenly missing."

"Why did she go then? Willingly?"

"She definitely went willingly", Amelija growled with barely-contained fury. "There is nobody who can _make_ Alina do these things; if anything, she has always been capable of going to _insane_ lengths to escape others' control. No, what bothers me is that she might be manipulated in some other way. Maybe they lied to her about what was going on. She always believed she could find the best in people."

"It's probably not the same person", Christine offered. "I can't imagine Erik traveling across the Atlantic on a boat with somebody - he's terrified of people, and doesn't go out in daylight, let alone talk to - "

"What did you say his name was?"

"Erik", she said, cringing almost unnoticeably.

"Erik and what else?"

"Nothing else."

Amelija decided to ignore that rubbish for now. "And how many people named Erik do you know?"

Christine sighed. "Oh good God."

"Hah."

"Have you - heard from her at all?" she asked fearfully.

"I have, actually. She wrote to me from New York, saying everything is fine and she and this friend of hers have both found work. They're trying to make money to repair a house, and something about a sick toddler. Strange stuff, but normal for Alina." Amelija shrugged. "I have to admit, I don't know what to think about it, but it sounded convincingly benevolent."

"Oh, I suppose that really isn't him, then."

"No?"

"No, Erik wouldn't do things like that. I can't imagine him working a normal job, or doing any of the things you've been saying - it just wouldn't happen. And he wouldn't just start living with some unknown woman, let alone be so harmless and calm about it all."

"How are you so sure? People change."

"Oh, not Erik", Christine paused, then continued. "Like I said, he doesn't - didn't go outside, especially not during daylight. He was – unstable, I don't know, but you never knew how he would react or what he might do. He never talked to people; almost nobody knew he existed." Christine, for all her anger and fear, realized this was the first time she said that out loud. _Almost nobody knew he existed._ She couldn't quite put a finger on why, but it made her incredibly sad.

"That sounds ridiculous. What kind of a man is he? Is he too good for this world?"

"No, no, he - alright, I suppose I can tell you, since I've already told you all this - " she took a deep breath. "He's - disfigured, horribly, and wears a mask over his face. At all times. I can't imagine him around others. He was completely isolated his entire life."

"Ah, that sounds terrifying", Amelija said, remembering the little sketch of a seemingly masked man reading by candlelight in a small ship cabin that Alina sent along with her letter. "You're right, it's probably not him. Never mind. I'm sorry I made you talk about all this, and I'm glad it's over now", she said, taking her wallet out. "Listen, let's go for dinner, all three of us, when Meg returns. I'll look for Madame tomorrow. Is that alright? I'll pay, since you've been all too kind to offer me your lovely company in this foreign city", she smiled sweetly. _I need more time to think before I act. At the very least, I'll have one more tasty dinner before I go to jail for strangling an old woman. God forgive me._

For the rest of the day, Amelija tried to focus on her meal and the company as best as she could, doing her best to seem relieved and get everybody's attention off of her while she thought in peace.

She thought about calling the police. Something would have to be done soon; she would not leave her stupid sister to die in a foreign land or have something horrible happen to her. Amelija's sibling loyalty be damned, she would tell her parents and raise hell on earth from Zagreb to New York until she got Alina back and safe where she belonged. And she would see Madame Giry go down for what she had the audacity to put Alina through.

Madame Giry.

That woman. That manipulative... Amelija would love to simply go to the police and tell them all that she'd gathered so far, but she couldn't count on either of the girls to testify, she knew that. Meg was Giry's own daughter; and when it came to Christine... Amelija had a feeling she wouldn't go against her captor. Whatever she wasn't telling her, she was either more afraid of him or more attached to him than she let on. Amelija wasn't sure which possibility sickened her more.

Tomorrow would be hard.

ooo

Early in the morning of the next day Amelija stood once again in front of Madame Giry's house, ringing the doorbell. She had guessed the time when Madame wouldn't have to yet go to work, but would probably already be awake; her estimate was apparently right because she heard the sound of footsteps approaching almost immediately. She waited patiently for the door to open and Antoinette to greet her, leaving a moment of silence before allowing a very cold smile to spread across her lips.

„You sent my sister across the ocean with a lunatic", she said in the sweetest voice she could do.

Antoinette felt a jolt of fear shoot through her for a second before she composed herself and merely sighed. „Do you want to come in? I'll explain."

„And why would I? I'd much rather you explain it to the police; you might be more honest with them than you were with me." Amelija still smiled widely, not raising her voice.

Antoinette stared at the young woman on her door for a moment, fighting the urge to slam the door in her face. Amelija did have the right to know what happened to her sister, and she had the right to hear the whole story from her.

It was a risk she would have to take, even if it ruined her life. „Alright, young lady. Let me get my coat and then we'll go." She went back into the apartment, leaving the door open.

Amelija was somewhat shocked by _that_ turn of events. She didn't have any proof and no witnesses who she thought would actually go against Antoinette because she didn't actually think this bluff would work so well. She was hoping it would only scare the woman enough to tell her the truth.

Inconvenient.

Antoinette came back, putting on her coat and hat. „I'll go to the police with you if you want, but first I want you to go somewhere else with me, and then you can decide for yourself. I'll tell you the whole entire goddamn story, but don't say I didn't warn you."

Amelija blinked. „Alright, but where are we going?"

„To the Opera basement."

ooo

Once in the Opera, Antoinette went straight to the first floor, opened the secret corridor in the storage and took the small lamp she left behind the brooms, lighting it and signaling for Amelija to follow her.

„I don't think so.", Amelija said. She did not live to be twenty-two years old because she followed unfamiliar people into dark corridors.

„Do you think I will lock you inside?" Antoinette raised her eyebrows. „I'd appeal to reason and the fact I've been taking care of your sister for years as if she was my own family, but actually, consider this. Do you really think your disappearance, after hers, is something I really want to explain to your parents after they break down my door?"

 _That_ was true. Amelija sighed, really hoping she wouldn't regret this, and stepped into the corridor. It was suddenly almost completely dark as the door closed behind her, and the corridor was somehow much colder than the hallway they were just in.

„I'm afraid it will just get colder and more damp as we go down", Antoinette said. „Sorry."

„I'll live." Amelija followed her down an impressively narrow flight of stairs. „This is where your little protege lived, yes? It seems fitting. I can't imagine a normal person choosing to live in this creepy nightmare."

Antoinette turned to her swiftly, her voice sharp enough to cut through a cliff.

„Little lady, has anyone told you that some people get no choice in whether they will live in dark basements or pretty residential houses?"

Amelija was shocked by this sudden display of anger, but she gathered herself quickly.

„Does that excuse what he did?"

„Does it? No. Does it mean I will let you needlessly demonize my so- friend, no, I won't. If you want the story, you'll get the whole story." Antoinette sighed. Amelija noticed the dark hallways were stone and brick, not painted or finished. Light flickered in strange ways off the stones, playing tricks on her eyes as Antoinette spoke. The absolute silence around them made her voice sound louder than normal, and added an eerie echo that made Amelija feel as if her voice wasn't coming from right next to her, but from everywhere and nowhere at once. „I found Erik when he was still a boy. He was around sixteen - I think, because he didn't know. He was bound and chained in a circus cage as an attraction for nearly a decade, you see. I stole him in secret and brought him here, because I had nowhere to keep him and he couldn't talk so he couldn't take care of himself or be around other people, either."

„I... what?" Amelija wasn't sure she heard correctly.

„Yes, see, my daughter didn't tell you that part, did she? Neither did Christine, because they don't know it. I have protected my daughter from growing up too fast and seeing what a hellish place this world can be. Meg's never met him in her life, because I wanted to shelter her and allow her to realize things in her own time. She's a bright, principled, proud girl." She sighed. „And she might be right about all of this, in the end."

„I see. And you have gambled my sister's life on her being wrong?"

„No, no. Alina is in no danger."

„And you know this, how?" Amelija raised an eyebrow. She wondered how deep they already were. These corridors seemed to go on forever; she felt as if she might choke from the weight of all the ground above them.

„Erik lived in here for eleven years before he met Christine", Antoinette said. „During those eleven years, he never harmed anybody. The worst thing he did was steal some wood to build his house."

„House?"

„We'll get to it. Be patient. In any case, I'll be completely honest with you. Erik was insane when I met him, as one would be after living their childhood the way he had. But he started speaking within a year – look, he knew how to speak, he just _couldn't_ , I can't really explain it – and once he did, I made it my responsibility to raise him as one would a normal boy. Well, as much as I could. But you would be surprised. Do you see these?" she pointed at one of the traps.

„No?" Amelija squinted.

„It's a trap. He set them all over this corridor so that nobody could find him or get to him. He was so terrified of people that he would have simply planted landmines, if it were up to him. But I asked him to make them not dangerous, and I personally checked if they were lethal. They're not."

„That's a low standard for goodness."

„Perhaps. What I was saying is, once Erik calmed down and started speaking to me, I found that he was a... boy like any other, and he grew up to be a man like any other. Obvious peculiarities aside. He built a house, the one around this here corner, and lived in it. He listened to music, and composed music, and read books, and talked to me like I was his – here we are."

Antoinette held up her lamp high above her head for Amelija to see.

What Amelija saw must have been a house at some point – and a beautifully, carefully made one, at that – but right now it was a giant mess of partially charred wood. It looked like someone went at it with an axe, and some torches, and... Antoinette led her closer. Amelija looked at the broken, burned and scattered remains around her until she started to make out shapes.

Paper, with scribbles and notes and sketches. A broken piano that someone obviously hatcheted up until the only recognizable pieces were the keys. Some kind of clothes, all black, shoved violently out of a closet. Closet with etchings on it, Amelija noticed, that still showed in some spots. Various other things – enough to fill a house with one resident – laid around broken, ruined and very obviously violated. This was not just about breaking down the door or forcing a man out, she realized. It was about destroying everything the resident of the house held dear.

In the middle of one of the piles, she saw a violin broken in half.

„You probably know what happened with Christine", Antoinette said, looking away from the violin, „and I won't try to defend that. The poor girl was eighteen when it all transpired, and I can't bring myself to blame her for fearing him or lying to him, because she didn't know how to talk to him, or even for some of the things she did to him – it wasn't her fault. She meant well, but things spiraled completely out of control.

But in the end, Erik did love her, and he did let her go on his own. He let them both leave, ran from this place and – well, all of this occurred later on. They wanted to send a message, I suppose. This was the only home he ever had, and this is what's left of it. The reason I think he deserved another chance is because I saw him live in relative peace for a decade, and even when he did break and do all of that – he still brought himself from the brink and learned a lesson. I think he did learn a lesson, at least."

Amelija needed some time to process that, but before that, she had one more pressing issue.

„Alright. Suppose that he did deserve another chance at life. Suppose that this was all a horrible mistake of a man that didn't know better. Why would you send my sister, who you've been protecting all her life, with a man that doesn't know better?"

„I asked your sister to get him to New York and somewhere he wouldn't be in danger", Antoinette said. „If she's still there, it's purely her own choice. I'm not keeping her in any way."

„Is he?"

„No."

„How do you know? Doesn't he have a sort of history kidnapping women?"

„I doubt he would do that again."

„Why?" Amelija pressed. „You can't risk my sister's life on a hunch!"

„Because", Antoinette took a deep breath, „because he's... he spent his entire life imprisoned, and after... everything, when he realized he was capable of imprisoning someone else, I had to physically constrain him not to kill himself."  
„Excuse me?"

„I don't want to talk about it. In any case, I asked your sister to go with him because she was depressed in London and because I know she doesn't have prejudice toward people. She had worked with enough... unstable people, to know how to talk to him. I warned her that he was... strange, and not to pry too much into things that upset him, and not to... just to respect his privacy and not do things you wouldn't do around someone who, for example, just came home from war."

„Why has she stayed for so long?" Amelija wondered. Was it her sister's overgrown, bleeding heart that made her stay with the poor traumatized madman? Well, it was a possibility.

„Oh, because she likes him."

„Pardon me?" Amelija managed.

„I introduced them before they left, for convenience. Your sister gets along well with Erik, as much as one _can,_ after knowing him for a short while. I didn't actually expect him to talk to her at all, but he did, and your sister seems to find him interesting. I think they've become friends by now, judging by both their letters."

„Uh-huh."

„Are you surprised? Alina craves strange adventures and strange people. And to be fair, Erik _**is**_ interesting. I think they'll have enough to talk about; they're more alike than it seems at first."

Amelija didn't know what to say to that.

„I think we should go", Antoinette said, leading her back up. „Alina has been sending back letters, and she seems content with the situation. If she wanted to come back, I would very much help her with that. In any case, it's your choice what you will tell your parents and the police – but you _have_ been getting her letters, no?"

„Just one so far, since she arrived."  
„And how did it sound to you?"

„In all honesty, like she was finally finding her place in the world", Amelija admitted. She spent the rest of the way up in thoughtful silence.

„Alright", she said when they reached the ground level, „suppose I do believe you."

„You do?" Antoinette raised an eyebrow, feeling more relieved than she let on.

„I don't know. But Alina is an adult, she's not held against her will and she's smart enough to handle this strange refugee of yours. I'd say she's doing alright so far, from what I've heard."

„Ah."

„I still would like to see how it all unravels", Amelija admitted. „I'd like to see her. And him. I'd like to visit them both and see for myself, so I can let the matter rest in peace. I won't tell anything to mom and dad, because I'm not a snitch, but I need to know for sure that snitching isn't the lesser evil in this case."

„So, you're going to America as well?" Antoinette asked. „Maybe you should wait until they settle down first? I think they're sort of... in the process of finding a decent home right now."

„Not this year, no. I have some things to do, and... some money to save up first", she admitted.

„I also do have to admit, since I'm being honest", Antoinette said, „Erik is still quite unstable. He's frightened of unfamiliar people, even if it doesn't seem that way. Adjusting to Alina's presence will take a while for him. If you force too many people on him, it might get complicated and he'll simply disappear. He does strange nonsense under extreme stress."

„Thank you for your honesty", Amelija said, surprised by the sudden confession. It was unnecessary and unfavorable for Antoinette – which made Amelija trust her more for the first time today. „I assure you I'll handle it as delicately as I can."

ooo

March 1895, Coney Island

Present day

„Oh", Alina looked up from the letter in her hands. „My sister is coming to visit us this summer. She'll stay for a few weeks, and then she might go to Pennsylvania."

„Us?" Erik kept his voice politely curious.

„She's coming to visit _me,_ if you want to be exact, but also to meet you. I'm not certain if she's simply curious and wants to travel, or if my parents sent her to spy on me, but in any case it's much better that she's coming alone", Alina trailed off, absentmindedly. She started biting her nails, he noticed, as she usually did when she talked about her family.

„Implying that she will be staying here as well?" he asked.

„Oh, that. Yes." She shook her head slightly, gathering her thoughts. „I'm sorry. Do you mind if she stays here?"

 _I do very much mind._ „I'm not used to being around that many people", he shrugged.

„Two?" she raised her eyebrow.

„Even one is too much in most cases. You're an exception", he smiled, „but only because you're so lovely. In any case, this is your apartment as well as mine. If you don't want your sister to stay somewhere else, that's reasonable, I suppose. And safer."

„Oh", Alina straightened up. This was going much better than she'd anticipated. „That's... very nice! You'll like her. We'll all have a good time together. Amelija is very fun. And, to be fair, lovelier than – „

„You misunderstood me. I won't be here."

„Pardon me?"

„I'll find somewhere else to be. Work, probably. I'll see if I'll sleep in my room, but I doubt it." Erik thought he could see clouds rolling up behind Alina's eyes. „I'll meet your sister, if you want, but I don't want to live with her. I'll find someplace else to be while she's here." It was as fair of a compromise as he could manage; a small, bitter part of him complained about being kicked out of his own house for the sake of some woman he didn't know or care about – but he tried his best to be considerate.

„I'm not kicking you out of your own apartment!" Alina wasn't sure if she felt angry, guilty or simply frustrated. „I thought we could all – „

„Get along?" Erik finished coldly. „No, we cannot. I'm trying to be considerate and let you spend some time with your sister in peace, because you seem to love her a great deal. But I don't want to spend several weeks walking on eggshells, pretending to be normal and not sleeping so she wouldn't hear me sc- I'm not doing it, and that's that." He crossed his arms in front of him, his eyes burning in contrast with his cold, flat tone. Alina had seen him angry before, but she wasn't scared of it anymore, he suddenly realized. At least she didn't look scared. _Maybe all of this incredibly exhausting, constant self-vigilance has been worth it, at least a little? Maybe there will be a person I know other than Antoinette that never looks at me with horror again?_

Alina knew the right and wrong times to push things. „Thank you for being considerate. I haven't seen Amelija in almost two years. It will mean a great deal to me", she finished, slowly.

Erik shrugged. „If it makes you happy."

She wondered if she should say the following sentence, but for some of the self-control Erik had gained over the years, she was slowly losing the excess she had previously accumulated.

„I want you to meet my sister because I'm proud of you, and proud to be with you, and she has never actually seen me with a man I cared about", her brows furrowed with defiance. _It would be really incredible if he took this opportunity to confess he's not really serious about me._ „If she is moved by your appearance or whatever peculiar behavior you feel insecure about, more than the fact that you're an incredible man, it would mean she's much dumber than I remember her. And I doubt it."

Erik was truly struggling to stay annoyed. He kept staring at her, but she couldn't read his face anymore. „You've never cared about a man? And you care about _me_?"

„Yes, obviously. I do."

„You have terrible taste", he blurted out.

„I'm beginning to think that too, after how _that_ was received", Alina rubbed her face with her hands. She stood up, automatically looking for something to do; she gathered the dishes from the table and faced away from him to carry them off in the kitchen.

Erik stood up frantically after her, moving in front of her and taking the dishes from her hands to gently lay them back on the table.

„I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry", he repeated, his voice panicked. „I didn't expect you to say that." Alina still looked hurt; he took her hands in his. „I'm sorry!"

„It's alright", she looked at him with concern, unsure what was going on. „I'm not angry."

„But – I – I didn't mean to say that! I meant –„ he took a deep breath, trying not to make a fool of himself anymore, „I meant to say that I care about you too, but I'm – honestly surprised that you do, and I don't – don't deserve it, obviously, because as soon as you said it now, I've managed to offend you instead –„

Alina pulled one of her hands out of his grasp, gently resting a finger over his mouth.

„I'm not angry."

„I've ruined it", he said, albeit a little calmer. The feeling of her soft finger on his lips seemed to center and ground his thoughts; if he focused on the sensation, he could let his worries pass by without escalating. _. Please don't start resenting me. If I told someone I cared about them and they reacted as I did, I would definitely start resenting them._

„Nothing is ruined", she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. „I'm really not angry." Erik returned her embrace, slowly putting his arms around her and burying his face in her hair. Alina closed her eyes and smiled. There was something very special in the way Erik hugged her; something incredibly warm and desperate at the same time – as if he was trying to be as close to her as possible, grasping at her for dear life, as if every time he touched her was some strange gift from heavens. She couldn't get enough of it.

„If you were, you'd tell me?" he asked quietly, after some hesitation. „You wouldn't just resent me in secret?"

„Yes. I promise. You don't have to worry about that."

END OF CHAPTER 15

NOTE: Also, I just wanted to add I love writing Amelija's antics and her sassy internal monologue. I also like the uncomfortable juxtaposition of Erik's currently kind behavior with the Problematic things he has done, just for the sake of causing myself pain I guess. For those wondering what this has to do with the current plot, I'll get to it, I promise. Meanwhile enjoy the adventures of Amelija the Girl That Was Tired Of Everybody's Shit Since Forever.


	16. Nightmares

A/N: If you have already read my other story Descent, you can skip to the end of the italicised text (but don't skip the whole chapter, there's more at the bottom!)

16\. Nightmares

 _September 1893, Paris_

 _Christine stood in the dark corridor on the first floor of the Opera that ended in nothing, wondering about the reason her heart was beating so frantically. She waited patiently, leaned on the wall, until the wall moved for seemingly no reason and she stumbled, falling into another pitch-black corridor. She held herself steady with her hand on the wall, blinking in the sudden biting cold that made her eyes water._

„ _Are you here? Where are you?" she asked, her voice slightly trembling._

„ _Right here. Next to you", the voice came from somewhere close, but the weird echo made it sound like it was coming from everywhere at once. She turned around, holding out her hands to try and feel her surroundings. He could sense it; the sudden movement of her hands waving much too close to his chest nearly stopped his heart_ – from fear or excitement? _– and he stepped back, trying to compose himself._

„ _Don't do that", the voice hissed at Christine._

 _She quickly put her hands down._

„ _Just walk. It's safe. I'll tell you where to go", he said. Christine really wished he would offer his hand to her so she wouldn't have to just walk blindly; if only to calm her down – she felt incredibly unsure walking through the darkness with nothing to hold on to._

 _Erik could barely see Christine tapping in the darkness slowly; she passed a crack in the wall that let a tiny sliver of light through, illuminating her shiny dark curls for a split second – it was such low light that she barely percieved it, but for a moment he could see her lovely eyes wide with fright._

„ _So you came", he said. „Why?"_

„ _I read your note", she replied. The small note on her desk instructed her to come to the southern corridor of the first floor – after talking to a disembodied voice in her room for nearly three months, she had started to pester him regularly to come and meet her properly. This was not what she had imagined._

„ _You don't want to be here", he said. He tried to sound as calm as possible, but some of the bitterness still seeped through._

„ _No", she admitted after a short pause. „This corridor is creepy. And cold."_

„ _Then go back", he said flatly._

„ _But – „ she started, unsure, „I wanted to meet you."_

„ _This is me", he said. „Are you disappointed?"_

„ _I thought you'd come... I thought I'd see you", she said, trying to sound confident. „I wanted to see you."_

I'm afraid seeing me won't make this any less creepy _, he thought. „No."_

„ _What am I to do, then? Walk blindly through the cellars?" she asked. The tiny note of annoyance in her voice_ _amplified_ _as it echoed through the corridor. He kept silent for a moment_.

She's afraid. She hasn't even been down yet, she hasn't even seen you, and she's afraid. Do you think it'll get better as she goes down? How much more fear can you stand to see on her face?

 _He wasn't sure if he wanted to cry or scream, but he somehow managed to do neither of those; however, restraining himself and the voices in his head took too much of his composure and left him unwilling and unable to talk to her anymore. He just wanted to be alone. He rubbed at his temples, trying to compose a normal-sounding sentence._

„ _Go back", he said._

„ _What?" she asked, „No, wait, I – „_

I'm sorry, _she wanted to say, but the door behind her opened again. She turned around, confused by the sound, and tried to make out his shape in the shadows cast by the sudden light outside._

„ _Wait!" she said, but nobody answered. „I'm sorry if I offended you! What did I say? Why are you angry at me?" Christine was normally incredibly well-behaved and obedient towards all of her teachers; she didn't normally backtalk them or question the tasks they gave her, and she acted the same towards her mysterious singing tutor as well – but walking blind through creepy, pitch-black, haunted cellars was too much even for her. She wondered if this was her fault, and if she should be more respectful next time – she had obviously offended him somehow. He had been nothing but polite to her until this point. Her plea met only unforgiving silence, and she turned around and walked back into the light of day._

 _Erik watched her from a distance, invisible to her unaccustomed eyes. This was for the best, he told himself, even if it tore him apart to do it._

 _As Christine returned to her dressing room, she found new sheet music on her desk, along with a note._

This will be good for your vocal range. Make sure you practice the scales too, I know you've been skipping out on them. You'll only ruin your voice if you keep being careless. Read them and I'll contact you in a few days.

 _The paper was ripped on the bottom of the note, and Christine didn't think much of it as she picked up the new songs excitedly. Her teacher must have forgiven her after all, she thought as she opened the sheet music and started warming up._

 _Several floors below, Erik absentmindedly played with the ripped piece of paper as he thought about what he was going to do. He definitely needed more distance from her; his heart was still racing and his nerves felt like frayed threads. He opened the piece of paper in his hand and looked at it again. He had almost left it like that, before changing his mind and ripping the bottom from his letter. It sounded incredibly stupid, now that he looked at it again._

I'm sorry. You can come back if you want.

 _ooo_

 _November 1893; Paris_

 _Christine closed the door to her room and locked it carefully. She leaned her forehead on the door and breathed deeply, trying to calm her pounding heart down._

 _It was finally happening. Her dreams just might come true. She opened her eyes, realizing she could suddenly sense – in some way she couldn't explain – that she wasn't alone._

„ _Erik?"_

„ _I'm here", she heard a voice behind her. She turned around to see a figure behind her, standing in the corner of the room with his hands behind his back. As usual, he was completely covered in clothing, the high collar of his coat ending just below the edge of his mask, the only thing on him that wasn't completely black. His hair was neatly tied in the back, and his eyes – a very bright, yellow color – were softer and kinder than usually, losing some of their unnerving intensity. She had seen glimpses of his appearance here and there, when they would meet, but never like this – he had actually fulfilled his promise to come in person this time._

„ _I promised to come if you auditioned, so here I am", he said. He had rehearsed that sentence so many times that it no longer held even a tiny note of insecurity – at least not obvious enough that she would notice it._

„ _And yet, you're still hiding behind the mask", she remarked. „Why won't you tell me who you are?"_

 _He kept silent, considering going back down after all._

„ _I apologize, maestro", she bowed charmingly, uncharacteristically bold now while adrenaline was still coursing through her veins. „You may keep your mysteries."_

 _He forced himself to calm down. „In any case, I just came here to congratulate you."_

„ _You heard all of that?" she gasped at him, her eyes twinkling with some new light in them._

„ _Of course."_

 _She laughed a charming laugh that sounded like a thousand tiny bells – he wondered if she was aware how much different her laugh sounded today from when he first saw her._

„ _You were incredible", he bowed his head at her. „Congratulations. You just got your first leading role."_

 _She clasped her hands over her mouth. „I can't believe it! What am I going to do?"_

„ _Sing, obviously", he replied. „Isn't this what we've been preparing for?"_

„ _I'm not – „_

„ _You're ready", he interrupted. „They'll adore you."_

„ _You think so?" she said. „You think they'll notice me, next to all the beautiful soloists?" do you think_ he _will notice me, she almost asked but stopped herself. She didn't feel it was appropriate to discuss her secret love for a young nobleman who barely noticed her with her music teacher._

„ _On the contrary, I couldn't notice anyone else when you were on the stage", he blurted out. He didn't mean to say it. It was stupid, so stupid, he fumbled and wished he could disappear, but she suddenly smiled at him with such sincere brilliance he felt his chest melting from the inside._

„ _I'm so glad you liked it!" she said. „I'm so glad it's finally good enough!"_

„ _Almost", he pointed out. „We'll polish some details."_

„ _Now?" she asked. „I'm.. I'm kind of tired, and... Meg is waiting for me..."_

„ _Do you have better things to do?" he asked coldly._

„ _Well.. no..." she trailed off. She did, actually, have things she wanted to do, but she was worried she would seem lazy. What did she know about how real musicians worked? Maybe she really needed to put in some more sacrifice to make her ambitions come true._

„ _It won't take long. I don't want you to strain too much. We'll just go over some details", Erik took out some sheet music. He automatically took off his gloves and set them aside, as he normally did when he was alone. He didn't even realize he had done it until he noticed her staring at his hands in shock._

„ _What's wrong with your hands?" she asked, wide-eyed. His fingers were bruised with dry blood stuck in the cracked fingernails. She wondered how on earth it wasn't causing him pain._

„ _Nothing", he hissed, hiding them behind his back and turning to put back his gloves. „My hands, if anything, are perfectly normal." Well, usually, at least. He was so obsessed with making every part of Christine's lessons perfect that the obsessiveness, once he stopped checking himself as Antoinette taught him, spilled over into everything else he did. When he wasn't obsessively practicing things he would teach Christine, what exactly he would say to her and how and when, what he would play for her and when he would see her, he was obsessively playing his violin to try and keep grounded in reality. It wasn't doing much for him, even as he lied to himself that it would get better in time. The results were becoming visible on his body._

„ _You're injured", she said quietly. She felt the need to reach out her own hand to him, but was too afraid to do it._

„ _Nothing for you to worry about. We have more work to do", he said. „Don't let this one audition get to your head. You've got a long way to go if you truly want to reach greatness."_

„ _As you say", she nodded._

„ _Start from the top of the page, then. Here, you'll need to add some accents", he pointed with his gloved finger, determined not to slip like this ever again._

 _ooo_

 _December 1893; Paris_

 _Christine looked at the broken mess of a man she once considered her friend, tears streaming down his massacred face, and realized she no longer felt any of her previous admiration, any of her dying need to please him and be good enough for him. He dragged her by her arm all the way down, not stopping when she stumbled in the dark, not turning to ask if she was alright – just pressing on, rambling furiously some disconnected nonsense she couldn't decipher. He pushed her into his house, locking the door behind them and turning to her. The horrible misery on his face was slowly being replaced by something else. She couldn't tell what that emotion was. It didn't seem like something a human being would be capable of feeling. Christine backed away until her back met the wall; the movements of his limbs looked like branches being swayed carelessly by the wind as he walked towards her and stopped only a few feet away from her._

 _She wished she could just simply kill him, or even herself, and end this hell. She couldn't look at her teacher – friend – protector – become this..._

„ _Let me go!" she demanded._

„ _No", he said flatly. Or_ somebody _said it. Something must have produced that sound - even if the eerie mannequin-like presence in front of her looked unable to form normal human words._

„ _Then let me die!" she raised her voice desperately._

„ _No", he repeated. His fingers twitched and trembled unnaturally; she wondered if he was trying to stop himself from doing something._

„ _What do you want from me, then?" her pleas were getting more frantic._

„ _I want nothing from you", he said, and thought about it for a second. „No. That is wrong. I want everything. I want you."_

 _She stared at him in horror for a moment, unable to form a sentence strong enough to express how much she hated him. Instead, she said the first thing that came to her without thinking._

„ _I am not a doll for you to posess!"_

„ _I don't want a doll", he said, seemingly having lost his capacity to understand figures of speech. His shoulders started twitching as well. „I want you", he said quietly, with sudden unexpected gentleness._

„ _You – you can't have me!" she screamed. „I'll fight you, now and every day until I die! I'll go to hell cursing your name, you unforgivable monster! I'd rather die than stay trapped here!"_

„ _Understandable", he said, his tone becoming empty again. The twitching was becoming worse. „It's what I would have done as well, if I could."_

 _She stared at him frozen for a moment._

„ _Unfortunately, I couldn't do that, and neither can you", he said. „So now we're both stuck here."_

„ _Why? Why are you doing this?" she started crying openly, burying her face in her hands._

 _He thought about it for a moment. „To keep you here with me", he said finally. He really thought it would be obvious to her. It was obvious even to him, even with the myriad of voices that screamed and hissed and echoed in his mind, stopping him from thinking clearly._

„ _Wh- why? Why? Why? Can't you just let me live in peace? Does it not matter to you at all what I want?" she desperately hoped she could find a way to reach somehow behind this pointless, circular argument._

„ _It does. What do you want? I tried to give you everything you wanted." the twitching of his arms calmed a little bit, and he pressed his fingers to his temples to try and protect himself from the hateful voices – both inside and outside his head._

„ _I want freed-„ she started, and stopped as she heard loud banging on the door. He raised his head to look at her again, and the terror she felt was for a moment reflected in his eyes before midnless fury took its place._

 _He was over at the door before she could even blink, and opened it in one swift motion to reveal the tall handsome man standing behind it – the man didn't expect the door to open so soon, and certainly didn't expect the punch that landed in his stomach and took out his breath, leaving him hunched over to gasp for air. The next one came from below, and sent him crumbling to his knees. Another one sent him flying until he was lying on the floor, rope tightening around his wrists and neck. He didn't even have a chance to say a word before it was done._

„ _Please, please, stop", Christine cried. „Please, don't hurt him. Don't kill him. I'll do anything you want."_

„ _He'll come back when I'm not looking", the shell echoed with Erik's voice. „He'll kill me."_

„ _He won't! I promise! Just leave him! He's not dangerous!"_

 _Erik's head turned to the man gasping unmovingly on the floor, then to the crying girl again, and the ghost inside him proposed an idea._

„ _If you stay here with me, I'll let him go", it said. „If you don't, I'll kill him."_

 _Christine's head cleared, filling with sharp anger instead of panic as she realized she'd walked right into a trap. From now on, nothing she did would matter. No matter what she did, she would not win this. Raoul looked at her with pleading eyes, mouthing „don't do this, let me die, it's fine, don't do this„ over and over again. He had promised Madame Giry he would try to calm him down before he did anything else; he couldn't believe he failed so spectacularly before he had a chance to even say anything and kept silent, afraid to let out another word that would make it all worse._

„ _I trusted you", she screamed. „I – I thought you were my friend! I thought – „_

„ _You were wrong", the ghost said with sudden sadness in his voice. „I lied."_

„ _You said you loved me!"_

„ _I do." Again, it seemed obvious. Why was she checking? As if it had changed in the meantime?_

„ _You can't force me to love you back!" she screamed, giving up the hope that she would find a better way to say it. „Even if I wanted to, I couldn't! I can't! I love him! You can't change that!" she lost her voice again, and the last remnants of her anger, and simply stood there crying._

„ _I know that", he said. The twitching was intensifying again. „I just want you to stay here. I'd be stupid to hope you'd love me back. I'm not even – not even – even – h – h - " he stopped, closing his eyes and putting his hands on his head again, pulling on his long disheveled hair._

 _Christine watched in terror as it happened, unable to understand what was going on. A few more tears streamed down his face, and he forced himself to open his eyes and look at her._

„ _You have to decide", the ghost repeated._

 _She blinked at him. She knew already what she would do – the only thing she could do – but something still bothered her. Eternity of darkness was a long time, and she had one more moment to ask before she took the jump._

„ _What are you, then?" she asked numbly. She had no idea what she was asking or why._

 _His eyes looked back at her. What did it matter, anyway? The deal was still here. It would be here no matter what she said. He struggled to think about it.„I am a hole in the ground", he said. „I'm nothing. Black spots and screaming. And sharp. I was something else, but I can't remember."_

 _She nodded. It sounded about right. The hole demanded a sacrifice, and she would oblige. Maybe she would find Erik at the bottom of it when she jumped in. Hopefully._

 _She cast another glance at Raoul who was still mouthing the same silent mantra – don't do it, don't do it, save yourself – and gathered her courage. Very slowly, she closed the distance between her and the ghost as he watched her carefully and stood so close to him that she could see the tears on the mangled skin of his cheeks even in the dim light. She closed her eyes, whispering „I'll stay, then", and kissed him lightly on the lips. She had to stand on her toes to reach him, even as he was already hunched over her. She didn't dare touch any other part of him, as he was already starting to shake when she drew closer._

 _When she pulled away and opened her eyes, he was still staring at her._

 _She looked at him expectantly for a moment when she realized the twitching had stopped._

 _His eyes widened, some new humanity emerging from deep within them._

 _And then he started to cry._

 _He cried silently as he kneeled down and untied Raoul, throwing the ropes away, and he cried as he cast another quick glance at her, moving past her, stumbling back toward his house. She tried following him, but he turned around and waved his hand at her to stop._

„ _Go back", he said. She remembered the first time she heard him say it, in the dark corridors._

„ _What?"_

„ _You're free", he repeated. „Go back, now."_

 _Raoul stood up behind her. He was still unstable on his feet, but he didn't look too injured to walk. She hurried to help him on his feet and he hugged her frantically, whispering to hurry as his throat was still too coarse to speak properly. She turned back to Erik, who was still watching her. Even so, she could see he was still hoping she would stay, and for a moment her anger was gone. Asking Raoul to wait for a moment, she walked up to him, took his hand as he almost winced back and placed a small ring in his palm._

„ _You were Erik", she said. „Before the hole swallowed you. I have to go now."_

„ _Forget me", he told her before turning around and disappearing into the shadows._

I won't _, she thought. She turned around and walked away with Raoul at her side. Neither of them could bear to look back._

ooo

Alina heard rustling from Erik's room as he jerked around in his sleep - his nightmares were a lot less frequent lately, but he'd still get them occasionally and she would hear him mutter or yell in his sleep. He appeared to be waking up; she heard something that could have been a gasp and someone standing up suddenly. He burst out of his room, his hair disheveled, his face unmasked and generally looking like he was having a rough night. He saw Alina's face in the candlelight looking back at him as he entered the room and jerked suddenly, covering his face with his hands and turning back into the room.

"Goddammit, Alina", he said, looking for his mask. "Why are you here?"

"I live here", she raised an eyebrow, her gaze fixed to her papers. Erik emerged again, tying the string at the back of his head.

"I thought you would be asleep", he said. "I didn't hear your door opening."

"I never went to sleep", she said. "I'm working." She almost asked him if he was alright, but decided to wait for a bit and see how he would act. He was generally distressed and distanced after waking up from his nightmares; he didn't react well to either comforting or questioning.

"Sorry about this", he said, waving a hand toward his face. He crossed over to the sink and poured himself a glass of water.

"I have no idea what you're apologizing for", she said lazily without looking up from her work.

Erik decided not to argue for a change. He leaned on the sink, glancing over her shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"Come and take a look", she smiled. Erik stepped closer and leaned over her.

"It's a new project. We're going to make a little garden for the school, and kids will take care of it. It might be fun for them, spending time outside together. And it teaches responsibility, too. But I have to plan it really thoroughly before I suggest it to Dowling, because I doubt he would want to bother with the logistics of it all. I'm just going to show up with a finished plan that needs approving."

"Don't you have work in the morning? You'll be tired."

"It's Sunday tomorrow", she raised her head to look at him.

"Oh." He was engulfed in his composing these days; he had trouble keeping track of time. He couldn't remember when he'd even fallen asleep - he must have been sleeping already when Alina came home. He vaguely remembered collapsing on his bed to take a quick nap when it was still sunny outside. _Have I slept that long? When was the last time I slept? What time is it?_

"It's one in the morning, so not that late", Alina said. "I'll go to sleep soon anyway."

"How long have you been home?" he sat next to her, looking at her scribbles and sketches. It was a welcome distraction; he could feel his thoughts untangling back to normal.

"Since about five. I went to Yana, and when I returned you were sleeping, so I decided to do some work in advance", she said. After a moment's hesitation, she reached out to kiss his temple lightly, right by his ear. Erik nearly twitched back automatically but consciously stopped himself, closing his eyes. He felt his skin tingling after she pulled away; he focused on the tapping of his fingers on the glass. Alina continued her work, seemingly undisturbed.

"How much of that did you hear?" He asked quietly.

"Hm. Some of it, but I didn't really understand", she replied, still scribbling.

He sighed in frustration. "I need better doors."

"They're becoming less frequent", she said casually.

"Yes."

"I'm glad for you."

"Mh."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" She asked carefully, checking at her sketches. _Do you need someone to carry all these eggshells?_ _I'm qualified enough; I've had a lot of practice._

"No", he replied. "It's just nightmares."

"Alright."

"I'm a grown man, I don't need pity", he blurted out.

"I wouldn't dream of offering it", she folded her papers neatly. "I'm offering support, which is not at all the same. And I'm very aware that you're a grown man, as you know", she winked. She crossed her arms on the table and rested her head on top, looking at him.

It didn't seem to reassure him much. He kept silent for a few moments before quickly blurting out,

"You know you could be with someone who's less of a freak, right?"

Alina frowned a little, thinking. "Is that someone, not you?"

"Obviously."

"Then I'll pass."

"But why?" he contained his voice, but it still held a tiny bit more of a pleading note than he would have liked.

"Because I have been a bitter old spinster, as my sister kindly put it, for twenty-six years, and I'd rather go back to that than be with someone else." He opened his mouth but she continued quickly, "I think you're incredible and I have never felt such a need to spend all my time with another man in my life. Does that answer your question?"

He nodded.

"Should I elaborate? Do you want more compliments?"

He chuckled. "I wouldn't protest."

"Hmmm." she smiled suddenly, thinking of something. "But they'll come with a price."

"Price?"

"You have to buy them. With kisses. One for each compliment", she grinned, her ears blushing slightly. "I'm sure we can come to a bargain."

Erik thought about it for a second, and then nudged her arm unwrapping it from under her. He took it lightly and kissed the palm of her hand.

"You're very witty. You make me laugh a lot", she said.

"That I've noticed", he said, carefully rolling up her sleeve. He planted another kiss on her wrist. "It's intentional. I enjoy the sound."

"You're a very kind, gentle man", she continued.

"Not a lot of people would say that about me", he admitted, tracing small circles along her forearm. Alina felt the tiny hairs on her arm standing on their ends.

"I don't care. It's not them you're kissing."

"Good point", he reached out, planting another light kiss on her cheek. When he pulled away, he noticed a slight blush there, even in the dim candlelight.

"You're a brilliant musician", Alina said. "Your music would make a stone cliff weep."

"Many other things about me would", he remarked.

"You need to stop ruining the game."

"Sorry."

He looked at her for a moment, trying to decide, then leaned toward her again and kissed the side of her neck. He heard her sigh – _oh God, what a wonderful sound, please do that again –_ it made his heart beat frantically; instead of pulling away, he kissed her neck again, slightly lower than before.

"You're a great kisser", she whispered.

"And you are the best thing that has ever happened to me", he replied into her neck. Alina's limbs felt like rubber already; she wondered if she would simply melt then and there. But having heard that, she felt a little jolt of energy, and she lifted her head to face him.

"Are we switching? I can play that way too."

"Wh-"

She silenced him by abruptly sitting on his lap and crashing her lips against his. Before he could react, he felt her hands around his neck, in his hair, gently flowing down his back and chest. He closed his eyes, wrapping his arms tightly around her, as his head cleared completely. He didn't notice when the candle burned out.

END OF CHAPTER 16

 _A/N:_ _Angst and fluff, thats what you get in this story my dudes. Angst and fluff all the way down._

 _I'm considering writing a book about writing fanfiction and calling it_

 _Angst and Fluff: the Duality of Man_


	17. Masquerade

_A/N:_ _Well hello there! This week I might actually do a double update - this little thing, and another chapter taking place in the present time because it's nearly finished as well and I wanna get on with the plot, but I wanted them to be separate because I don't want too many things going on in a single giant chapter. So, it might come over the weekend or early next week (and then I'll see what I do the week after that - the 19th one is very long, I got it prepared already but might take some more time to edit). Enjoy your weekend!_

 _if you want a soundtrack for the dance, I recommend this:_

 _/gvUg7KLAclA_

 _ooo_

 _17\. Masquerade_

 _December 1891, Paris_

 _(Two years prior to the Opera Ghost scandal)_

 _Opera Garnier took pride not only in the quality and abundance in its performances but also in the lavish, glamorous balls and parties that it often hosted during the holiday season. Antoinette enjoyed those events, and even though maintaining her professional authority meant she couldn't completely relax she could still be around people and talk about something other than work. Today was one of those days - the annual masked ball that took place three weeks before Christmas was tonight, and Antoinette found that one to be her favorite, if only for the dressing up and glamour of pretending. Antoinette had always loved extravagant dresses - her current lifestyle didn't allow for them very often, but every once in a while she could take out the black lace and pearls and silk gloves and let her imagination run wild. She was thankful for the fact that, at forty-five years of age with a job and a daughter, she would be free to do this one silly thing in the middle of what was the most exhausting time of the year for her._

 _She entered the grand hall in her beautiful, extravagant black dress, shiny golden mask over the top half of her face and a dainty matching golden crown on her head. She wrapped her shoulders in a transparent black shawl to keep warm. Standing straight with a slight smile, she looked positively imposing. She remembered going to these balls as a young ballerina - trying to look small, pretty, feminine; trying not to stand out too much and fearing others' judgment._

 _The young Antoinette, although prettier, really didn't know what she was missing out on. She wouldn't go back to that for the world._

 _The building was lavishly decorated in red, black and gold, and lit in warm low light in such a way to make it easy enough to get around, but casting deep shadows that played tricks on one's eyes sometimes, especially when everyone was wearing masks. The experience was only slightly surreal and uncanny - just enough to make the party interesting. She really liked the idea. Everyone was affected by it - every person Antoinette talked to seemed to be slightly different than how they normally were; the strange light and mood making them talk slightly more openly, admit strange things they normally wouldn't, tell eerie stories about things they've seen. It seemed like a dream one would have under the full moon._

 _After some time, Antoinette decided she could really use some fresh air and stepped out on one of the small balconies to avoid having to socialize for a few minutes. She was afraid for a moment she'd run into one of_ those _couples, but she seemed to be strangely lucky because the tiny balcony seemed completely empty. She let out a breath and looked at the clear, starry sky._

" _Hello, Antoinette", she heard a voice behind her - barely above a whisper, but her ears were used to its shy beckoning so she recognized it immediately. That voice had no business being there, and she turned around quickly to see what was going on._

" _Erik?" she looked at a tall narrow figure standing right behind her. She had not heard him approach at all; and even if she had seen him she would not have noticed him - his appearance was carefully planned to make him stand out as little as possible, and his soft, quick movements kept him in others' peripheral vision without calling for further attention. He looked the same as he usually did - dressed in black, white mask and long black hair neatly tied in the back, but for once, nobody thought that was the slightest bit strange._

 _He smiled shyly at her. "Surprised to see me?"_

" _Absolutely." it was not like him to come out like this at all; the crowd was huge, the room behind them that he would have to cross to get here was loud and filled with laughter, bright lights and colors. Even Antoinette would be overwhelmed after a few hours._

" _To be fair, you're the one who has been avoiding me this time", he bowed his head slightly._

" _I wasn't avoiding you, I just saw you last - " she frowned, before thinking about it and realizing he was not, in fact, being paranoid again - over the last year she had indeed started visiting him less frequently. "Oh."_

" _I wasn't sure what to think about it, but I figured - if it was some other man, the smart thing to do would be to ask you what's wrong", he shrugged. "If you don't want me here, I'll go."_

" _No, no, don't go", she waved her hands at him. "I'm sorry! I have been busy. We had a hellish year here, and - Meg is also dancing now, and I need to help her - and - another girl came and she's an orphan so we have to take care of her - "_

" _It's fine." he didn't actually consider how uncomfortable he would feel once she started apologizing._

" _No, really! I have not been avoiding you. And I'm sorry. I'll visit more often", she said, feeling the intense, gnawing pain of guilt in her stomach. Erik was old enough now - probably around twenty-five - that he didn't need her company in the same way he needed it before. He seemed to be doing alright on his own; he was in a good mood most of the time she saw him and she found herself automatically shifting her focus on the younger, needier kids that were under her care._

Antoinette, you ass, _she thought._ He's your friend. The one real friend in this place you have. How many mothers can say their adult sons come to visit them and chat every so often?

" _If you have the time." Erik would not have come to seek her out if he wasn't reasonably sure she really didn't start hating him; he took his time over several weeks to follow her around while she was working and he got the impression that she really, honestly, barely had time to breathe. Aside from her normal duties, she really did have a lot of work with the younger Opera employees that her superiors left her in care of. One evening he was passing her room on the first floor when he heard quiet sobbing. When he peeked through the keyhole he saw Antoinette comforting a young, miserable-looking curly-haired girl who seemed to be crying about someone's death. He considered leaving Antoinette alone after that - certainly there were better people she could spend the precious little free time she had with, but in the end, he found himself seeking her out anyway._

 _He missed her terribly._

" _I'll find the time", she hurried. "there is always time for good friends. But how come you're here? You could have just left me a note."_

" _I… actually like this masquerade", he looked around, shifting uncomfortably. He was not immune to the strange atmosphere. "I've never been to any parties before. And nobody seems to notice me here."_

" _Oh", she smiled gently at him. "And you're appropriately dressed, even. Well, you might make some new friends here."_

" _I doubt it. I have all the friends I need." even if they were all currently very busy. "Uh, what is your mask, if I may ask?"_

" _Myrtha, from Giselle." she turned around to show her dress. "I took some liberties with it and made it black, but I think the essence of it is still there. It was my first major role when I started dancing."_

" _It suits you well", he nodded, smiling. "Mother of ghosts.1"_

" _And you, monsieur?" she chuckled._

" _I am a paradox."_

" _How so?"_

" _I am a ghost, dressed as a man, dressed as a ghost." he smiled slightly, pleased with himself. He had prepared that answer, hoping someone would ask him. "I am the desire to be what you are, and not to be, at the same time."_

" _Well, it seems we are matching", she laughed. "Who'd have known?"_

 _Erik chuckled, his eyes sparkling slightly. He almost couldn't believe he was actually having fun at this party._

" _Now, I think that means we have to dance", Antoinette concluded. "Can you dance?"_

" _Afraid not."_

" _Liar."_

" _Alright, yes, I can. But do I have to?" he spread his arms. He did have some basic knowledge - he knew waltz, for example, and other things one could teach themselves when they were bored out of their mind five floors underground - but he wasn't going to go so far to actually show it._

" _I have an idea", she said. "You don't have to dance a whole song with me, even. See that door over there?"_

" _The one leading to the broom closet?" he knew that door very well - there was another passage behind its wall that led to his home._

" _That one. If you can dance with me all the way from here across the ballroom to the closet, and open the door discreetly, we can simply vanish through it and nobody would notice where we've gone. Quite a mystery, don't you think? It would suit the theme of this ball."_

 _He thought about it. "And then?"_

" _Well, that depends", she teased. "Are you willing to entertain your poor mother for the rest of this evening, little ghost? I hear there's a strange house down by the underground lake. Sometimes you can hear violin music from there, and I do like the sound of violins."_

 _He grinned widely at her. "Oh. Well, you asked for it." He opened the balcony door, took her hands and, as quickly as one possibly could waltz, swirled through the room all the way through to the small door, where he opened it in one swift movement and gently pushed her inside._

" _Impressive. I've never seen someone dance so quickly."_

" _Merci, maman."_

 _ooo_

 _May 1880, Zagreb_

 _(Half a lifetime ago)_

 _Mr. Boričević led his twelve year old daughter furiously by her arm into the pretty interior of their considerably-sized house and slammed the door behind them. Alina's clothes and hands were dirty, her frizzy hair sticking out of her braid, her eyes glistening with tears and what looked to be very intense fear and fury._

 _Mr. Boričević wondered if this kind of behavior was normal for a girl. None of his friends who had daughters ever mentioned having problems like these._

" _You have some explaining to do!" he yelled at her. "What on earth were you thinking?"_

" _That slimy arse messed with Amelija! I saw him hitting her! She's only nine years old, she can't defend herself!" Alina was tall for her age but still almost half of her father's size; still, the hatred with which she screamed at him drove him to the edge every time._

" _And the proper way to deal with that was to fight him in his own back yard? What happened to calling us? Or his parents?"_

" _You weren't there!" Alina yelled, with bitterness in her voice that betrayed they quite often weren't there. "I had to do something, and I decided to teach him a lesson he won't forget!"_

" _I'll teach you a lesson you won't forget! You're embarrassing us all with this stupid behavior! You're a reckless, aggressive idiot, and you'll never amount to anything if you don't learn to control yourself!"_

" _That's not fair!" she stomped her foot. "He can bully Amelija, and he can hit me, but I can't hit him?"_ Even you can hit me, and I can't hit back, _she almost said._ Why is this fine? Why is Amelija not protesting with me?

" _I don't care what's fair at all!" he thundered. "This is not how a young lady solves her problems!"_

" _That's bullshit!" Alina screamed back at him. She barely had time to finish the sentence when she felt her father's large hand slap her across the face._

" _Don't you dare talk to me like that!" he said, pointing a strict finger at her. "Maybe that will teach you that beatings hurt! You're grounded!" he turned around and stormed towards the door._

" _How long?" Alina yelled after him, holding her still-hot cheek._

" _Until you've impressed me with your good behavior! Now keep silent and stop making a fuss, your mother is sick!" he turned around again and slammed the door behind him._

 _Alina crumpled into one of the armchairs, crying inconsolably. If beatings could teach her that beatings hurt, she would surely have learned that already. She realized on some level that no matter what she took out of this, her father would still be able to claim he was right - no, hitting Alina was never particularly effective; while it did drive the point home that getting hit hurts, it didn't actually make her want to listen to her father's reasoning or obey him any more. If anything, it made her hate him every time it happened. So, yes, his point was true. It was a paradox Alina's young mind was unable to wrap itself around as she cried in the middle of her living room._

 _Alina actually didn't enjoy getting in fights, in fact it hurt her to do it; it was simply something boys around her did and for some reason she often found herself playing with boys - as they liked playing outside and exploring forbidden places, and her parents' friends mostly had sons - so she sometimes found herself throwing a few punches as well. It was normally not a problem; neither of them would ever snitch and by the next day they'd be friends again. Alina felt bitter regret after every punch she threw, and almost never actually got angry enough to hurt someone. But Ranko, this slimy little arse played a different kind of game, one Alina didn't know yet, and staring into their parents beautiful gold-embroidered curtains she decided for the first time in her life she'd learn that game._

 _She'd find a different way to solve her problems, she swore to herself, and would never hit another person again. It wasn't because of the pain, particularly, that still seared through her cheek – it was not nearly the first time this happened as an aftermath of her arguments with her father. It was because of the hatred and fury she felt for her father that she decided she never wanted that kind of hatred to be directed at her. She would one day, in one way or another, win against all these treacherous, hypocritical assholes._

 _Once she calmed down, she took out a piece of paper as she often did when she was upset and sat down with a pencil. She would behave, alright. She wrote down "Dear teta Giry" with her still shaky hand and started writing. She was curious about auntie's opinion on all this, and could use some reasonable advice._

 _Only a hundred meters away, Amelija knocked on the Novak family door, her pretty little cheeks stained as she cried loudly. Mrs. Novak opened and saw a pretty little girl with honey-colored locks bawling her eyes out, and immediately softened._

" _What is wrong, honey?"_

" _R-R-Ranko hit my sister", she sobbed. "He hit her, and now she's crying, and I don't know what to do, and -"_

" _Shush, dear, come in. Don't cry", Mrs. Novak led her into their kitchen and sat her at the table, cutting up some melon and placing in on the table in front of her. Amelija loved melon, but decided to wait for now._

" _What happened, dear? You can tell me." Ranko's younger brother, Stjepan, came into the room when he heard melon being sliced, but stopped silently when he saw what was unfolding._

" _My-me and my sister were playing, and- and Ranko started to argue with her because she told him not to push me and then they started fighting", she started crying again. "She's a girl and you can't hit girls and she's so sad these days because our mother is sick and now Alina is hurt too and I don't know what to do - " she finished, crying into her hands._

 _This was half-true; their mother was sick, but she only had a nasty cold which Amelija knew very well. She felt like it wouldn't hurt to mention it nevertheless._

 _Mrs. Novak's face hardened into stone. "Oh, that little… he'll hear from me, alright. Ranko!" she called as she went out of the room furiously._

 _Once Mrs. Novak was out of the room, Amelija nonchalantly wiped the tears from her cheeks and dove into the melon as the boy sitting across the table stared at her half-hateful and half-impressed. He would have normally chimed in, but Amelija was so convincing and their mother so angry that he could only have gotten in trouble as well._

" _You know that's not fair, right?" Stjepan asked her with disgust. "She beat him a lot worse than he beat her."_

" _Mmmh. I don't care what's fair at all", Amelija remarked, looking at the delicious piece of melon on her fork. "If Ranko touches Alina again, I'll kill him." She quickly put the piece of fruit in her mouth, chewing with a very self-satisfied look on her face._

 _It was the sweetest melon Amelija had ever tasted._

 _END OF CHAPTER 17_

1 Myrtha from the ballet Giselle is technically the queen of ghosts (hence the crown on Antoinette's head) and not the mother. Erik knows this; he just wanted an excuse to call Antoinette mom as a joke and see how she would react.


	18. The Heart of the Maze

_A/N:_ _Didn't I promise y'all an early update? Here it is! We have a teeny bit of a timeskip into Spring here - for a lot of people it's pretty cold and gray at this time of year so I hope this ambient brings you some color and joy :) I hope you'll enjoy the game they play at the end! I really put my heart into it. I'll see you next week on Friday!_

18\. The Heart of the Maze

Spring 1895; Coney Island

Present day

The bitter cold of winter that held its ground for too long stepped aside to make room for sunny Spring. Days grew longer; a young, mellow sun shone shyly in the sky, warming Alina's face as she came home from work every day. Birds chirped in the trees, rustling and shaking down white and pink petals as they flapped their wings. Veles had apparently accepted Yana's offerings of crumbs, because it was clear that Spring would be neither silent nor barren. She explained to Erik one day as he came to visit her and take a walk with her and Piotr that the concept of jealous deities was relatively new where she came from; clearly Christ could be in charge of human souls and Veles reign over nature, animals, magic and music? Why this was such a hard concept to some people, she didn't know.

„People in my church were very angry when I said it", she said a bit sadly. Not that it had necessarily made her think her beliefs were wrong – but she still felt a bit bad about making them angry. Yana had always took it to heart when the people around her were displeased with her or thought her strange; she hadn't changed that much in the past few years, despite gaining some courage. She missed her old village. At least they understood.

„I never really thought about it", Erik admitted.

Yana shrugged. „You would like Veles maybe. He likes pranks, like you."

„Alright, I'm interested. You had me at _magic and music_. Tell me."

„Well, he brings chaos. He comes from underground in the sky, and makes angry Perun, god of thunder." Piotr listened carefully as she talked – he knew these stories already, but liked hearing them time after time.

„I like him already", Erik smiled. „So, the old battle of good and evil?"

„No", Piotr chimed in, frowning and appaled at Erik's ignorance. „You don't understand."

„I'm sorry, little man", Erik apologized with barely a hint of amusement in his voice. „I won't interrupt the story. Please continue."

„Well, he steals Perun's wife and brings her under ground with him. Perun comes to get her back. Then Perun is under ground, and Veles is up. Or so he thinks", Piotr interrupted, explaining solemnly.

„Really?" this was hitting a little too close to home for Erik. He would have to _tell her tell her tell her_ see how the story would unfold, but he felt he knew already.

„Well, really no. Mokosh is Perun's wife, but not really. She has her own way." Yana smiled, taking over. „It's not even about whose wife it is. Perun and Veles fight, because they don't understand each other. Perun is thunder and air, and Veles is ground and water. Perun is sharp, and Veles is soft. You need both, or the world dies", she concluded authoritatively. „Perun doesn't know this, because he is proud and stubborn. But Veles is many things and many shapes, and he knows that all things and all shapes are important. Perun gives you life, but Veles understands the dead. He knows he has to lose after he wins. Souls in forest miss him." She drew a circle in the air in front of her with her finger as she spoke.

„And what happens to Mo- uh, the wife?"

„Oh, that. She returns."

„To whom?"

„To both. One then the other. Some of Veles loves Mokosh, but not all. Some of Mokosh loves Veles, but other loves Perun. Then the year ends, and begins again. I tell you, she has her own way."

„Hmm." He smiled. „You're right. He doesn't sound like a jealous god. I think you're fine."

ooo

On the first day of Spring, Erik brought home a large handful of field flowers and, holding his hands high and opening them, gently let them fall on the table in front of Alina. The colorful arrangement of daisies, dandelions, poppies and violets swirled around her for a moment before spreading all over her papers and filling her head with sweet, fresh scent.

"I thought I'd make the message clearer this time", he said as he lowered his hands. The colorful flowers reflected in her glistening dark eyes as she looked at them in silent wonder.

"Did you pick them yourself? Where did you find them?" she looked at him.

"I'm not going to tell you that", he smiled. "But you can braid them in your hair if you'd like. I can't promise I won't comment on it, though."

"I just might do that", she looked at them in thought, "but I have another idea." She picked out the violets out of the heap leaving the rest, took a large glass bowl, then filled it with water and threw them inside. Erik watched her in confusion as she rolled up her sleeves and washed her face in it while the flowers swirled around the bowl.

"It's an old custom", she clarified, patting her face with a towel. "If you wash your face in violets on the first day of Spring, fairies will bless you1*."

"I've never heard of that."

"I think it might be a specifically Slavic tradition."

"What will the fairies bless you with?" he asked in amusement. Her face had a lovely blush on it from being washed in cold water.

"I don't know. Fairies are often tricky. They give you what you want and let you deal with the consequences", she joked. She poured the water out through the window, returning the sacrifice.

"Ah", he managed. The universe was hell-bent on mocking him again, it seemed. Alina seemed oblivious to how ominous that sounded, braiding the rest of the flowers in her hair and singing softly to herself. As much as she loved fairy stories, she wasn't terribly concerned with superstitions. Erik shook his head; he needed to _tell her tell her tell her tell her,_ he needed to focus on his work, so he sat down and took out his papers. He had some composing he wanted to do today, seeing as the construction was nearing its end and he wasn't busy with checking every detail of his blueprints anymore.

„Well", she clapped her hands as she finished, „how does it look?"

He smiled for a moment before replying. „If I didn't know you better, I'd mistake you for one of the fairies."

As Alina sat back down to grade homework, Erik lulled himself in his own comfortable thoughts. He scribbled down the notes, forgetting about the outside world and temporarily free of his worries, tapping a rhythm with his free hand. Tap-tap-tap, then a pause, he waved his index finger around imagining how he would signal the flute to start while mellowing down the strings. Just one clear and soft sound against a wall of mulled cello harmonies playing a slightly ominous theme. The majority of the composition was written for a lead violin, but this one part was soft – too soft for the sharp sound of strings; it was made to resemble a soft, warm, cotton fog, being surrounded by something at the same time obscuring, obstructing and warmly encapsulating.

Over time, he started whistling the main theme of the section he was writing, then the cello parts, the harmonies, tapping all along while he worked. The whistling turned into singing under his breath, then actual singing; he finished putting the last note and the last bar in the section with a song on his lips and a wide, shining smile spread across his face.

He looked up to see Alina staring at him, awestruck with the pencil in her hand stuck in mid-air.

„I did _not_ expect your voice to sound like that", she whispered.

„Pardon me?" he leaned back, arms crossed and smile fading from his face. He would give her a second more before he pointed out she was staring at him.

She shook her head, seemingly waking from a trance. „Your speaking voice is much deeper."

„So I've been told. But I'm a tenor." He shrugged. „It comes more naturally."

„To put it mildly", she looked back at him, finally putting down her pencil. „I don't think I've heard you _really_ sing before. Has anyone ever told you that you have the gentlest, purest, most innocent singing voice I have ever heard come from a man? I have never in my life heard a masculine voice sing so clearly and beautifully. It's almost ethereal."

„Stop it", he ran his fingers through his hair, feeling his cheeks getting hot. „You're making it sound like I'm some teenage boy."

„That is not what I meant at all", she said. „It's not juvenile. It's just... pure, I suppose. Can you sing some more?" she smiled, resting her chin on her hand. „I could listen to it all day."

„Maybe later", he mumbled, collecting his papers. He picked up the bundle, putting it away in the drawer where he kept all of his most important projects, and closed it a little more loudly than he expected. "I have to go talk to Jack now." That was a lie. He had to _tell her tell her tell her tell her_ – he had to take a walk to think about some things. A new idea formed in the back of his head.

The sun was not so harsh yet these days, so Erik could walk in peace still bundled up in a scarf and hat. The scarf hid the edges of his mask and the hat cast a shadow over the upper part of his face – people could still probably see it if they took a good look, but Erik made it a point to walk quickly and rarely pass through crowded streets. If he wasn't so occupied, he might have noticed that the act of going outside during daytime was no longer something that required him an hour to prepare for like it did this time last year. He might have even noticed that a few of the people who lived close to him and got used to seeing him now nodded at him as they passed him by.

As he walked around lost in his thoughts, he did notice Walter sitting on the sidewalk across the street, talking cheerfully to another boy that looked to be about sixteen years old. The boy was short and very skinny, his eyes the same clear blue color as Walter's, but with an amicable, forgiving softness to them instead of Walt's piercing intensity. Mousy brown hair poked out of his newsboy-style cap, and the coat he wore was clearly still too big for his narrow shoulders. The likeness was so remarkable that if Erik had to guess what Walt's brother would look like, he would have described exactly that boy. He passed by hoping to remain unnoticed; to his dismay, Walter still saw him and waved at him happily, running over to greet him with the teen boy following behind him.

„Hey, mister Demon", Walter called after him.

„Walt, goddamnit", the teenage boy next to him cursed. „Didn't we _just_ talk about elders and attitude?"

Having been cleverly cornered between staying to talk to them and walking back home with this brat shouting _"hey mister Demon"_ behind him all the way, he decided to go for the less noisy option. He stopped and turned around, waiting for them to catch up. „It's alright", Erik replied with amusement. „It's more of an inside joke by now. What do you want, Walter?"

„I heard your park is opening", Walter grinned. „Are you coming?"

„No." If he had to choose between coming to the opening to stand among a giant crowd of people or biting his own legs off so that nobody could force him to go, Erik was quite sure which one he would prefer.

„Oh." Walter looked down, visibly disappointed.

„I've got other work", Erik said. „And you?"

„No, I can't go", Walter scoffed. „You still need tickets for amusement parks, remember?"

„Have you forgotten what I said already? I hope you don't forget your own promises as often", Erik smiled. „You don't need a ticket. Look for Jack on the opening day, and he'll take you in."

Walter gaped back at him. „You're kidding!"

„The word is _thank you_ , Walt", the teen boy glanced at him with annoyance. „Thank you, sir, for taking care of my rude little brat brother." The boy took off his hat politely and extended one skinny, worn-down hand to Erik. „My name is Samuel Preston, nice to meet you."

Erik hesitated for a moment, then offered his own hand. „Hello."

„Walt told me about you, sir", Sam continued. „Thanks for taking care of him that night."

„It's alright", Erik replied, hoping the boy would stop thanking him so politely; it was starting to make him uncomfortable. Walt's sassy rudeness was much easier to deal with, honestly. „Walter actually helped us during construction. He can visit the park anytime he wants."

„Is it true, Walt?" Sam pushed him, laughing. „You were actually useful? Or did you just wreak havoc while nobody was looking?"

„Just a little bit...", Walt pushed him back, laughing as well. „...of both."

„A menace, this one", Sam turned to Erik just as he was hoping to say goodbye and vanish. „Of all his teachers, there's exactly one that can stand him. I don't know what you did to make him listen to you, but there has to be some black magic involved."

„I wish", Erik looked at Walt. „I think he only listens to me because of Alina, and you need to ask _her_ how she does it. I can't guarantee hermethods aren't witchcraft, honestly."

„Alina?" Sam looked at Walter wide-eyed. „Wait, I just realized. I feel stupid now. Miss Alina is your nice teacher Boricevic?"

„Uh-huh", Walter frowned. „What of it?"

„The same Alina from the Russian refugee village?"

„Yeah. That's where I was that night."

„I didn't know", Sam shook his head. „I didn't know it was the same person. I haven't been to the Russian village much, but I've heard of her. There's a lot of Russian boys on the construction site where I work. They say she's great; she taught them a little English."

„That's her", Erik nodded.

„Then, if you know her, maybe you can solve a mystery for me", Sam smiled mischievously. „My friend Yuri said you can hear strange music, violin music, coming from around Miss Alina's house at random times. He says it sounds heavenly; unlike anything he ever heard before. Do you know who it is? The boys are obsessed; it can't be her because she's often not at home when they hear it. They wanna find that person and – I don't know what they'd do, but they're big fans", Sam laughed.

„I don't know", Erik said, adjusting the collar of his coat a bit higher around his face. „Maybe it's ghosts. I really have to go now."

„Nice meeting you, sir", Sam shouted cheerfully behind him. „Thanks again!"

ooo

The park was scheduled to open in late April and as much as Erik _begged_ them not to make a huge deal out of it, they all still made a huge deal out of it. Alina, Yana, Jack and seemingly everyone on the entire goddamn island was excited to see it, and Erik would have been excited as well in some other universe, probably. Truth be told, the whole process of making the damn thing was so exhausting he just wanted it to be over so that he would no longer have to anticipate all the disasters he would have to prevent.

It was still nice to see how excited Alina was about something he had designed; he was still shamelessly eager to show her all the things he could do and see her face light up every time. Would he ever get tired of it? Probably not, he concluded, it was like an opiate that numbed his other thoughts and left him addicted for more. He thought often about how he would have to _tell her tell her tell her_ find some sort of way to go with her through the park when nobody was around.

It could definitely be arranged, and if anyone, he could definitely arrange it.

He planned it well in advance, but hesitated to ask her – why would she want to go in the middle of the night when the buildings are eerie, dark and desolate if she could just go during the day as it was supposed to be experienced?

Except Alina obviously _liked_ all the strange places he had led her so far, and Erik saw no reason why she would lie to him about it – obviously, one woman could like both frolicking around meadows with dozens of children and making little paper stars, as well as sneaking through dusty dark corridors and climbing through the cliffs of misty deserted beaches. _Is that the result of growing up with those strange Slavic legends?_ he wondered with amusement. _Do other mothers aside from Yana feed their children complex morals about the duality of man much too early for them to understand?_ In any case, the obvious conclusion would be that she would enjoy seeing the park both ways; and he would make sure he made it happen so that both occasions would spark her interest.

ooo

„I still think you'll be sorry for not coming", Alina remarked with a pin in her mouth as she pulled her hair up. She was getting ready for the opening, aware that a lot of Jack's – and by proxy, their – business associates would be present, and she was determined to present her best self to the world. „It's a once in a lifetime opportunity to see something so giant be born of your work."

„You'll have Walter to keep you company", Erik replied. „I've arranged to have him come for free."

„Really? That's so kind of you." Alina smiled, checking her hair in the window.

„Yes. I forgot to mention, I met him and his older brother a week ago. Did you know the Russian boys spread legends about the mysterious violinist stalking around your house?"

„Yes, of course I knew. Everybody knows." Alina laughed. „I think they're _quite_ sure it's you, but they've seen you outside so rarely and never seen you play, it's bogging their minds. It's really quite funny. The whole village is in on it, and they keep pestering Yana to tell them all about it."

Erik looked silently out the window, smiling to himself.

„You enjoy infamy, don't you?"

„Maybe a little bit."

„Which brother?" Alina asked.

„Huh? Oh, he said his name was... Samuel?" Erik frowned. „I think."

„Oh, Sam", Alina smiled. „Sam's a sweetheart. Hank is tougher; he's the oldest so he's had it the worst. He's very withdrawn, mostly works and tries to control his dad when he can. But Sam is different. He can't stand up to people, but he's taken it as his job to help their mom raise the young ones. He often comes to pick Walt up when he's in trouble."

„So I've gathered."

„If you meet him again, maybe you could invite him to the park as well", Alina said. „I think Sam forgot how to be a child long ago. He deserves to be reminded."

„Can you do it for me?" _Please?_

„I could, but Sam is very sweet. He'll love you for it, and he'll be very thankful."

„That's exactly why", Erik mumbled, feeling his cheeks get warmer under the mask. „Just... if you happen to see him again, tell him I said Walter's brothers can come as well. You can tell him... tell him he impressed me with his manners, or something."

„He did, didn't he?" Alina smiled. „Sweet boy. Alright, I'm going. Are you _absolutely sure_ you won't come along?"

„Yes. I'm sure Jack and Walter will keep you occupied", Erik remarked. „I'll see you later."

"Actually", she said, "They will, but I would love to see _you_ , specifically. And I'd love to witness it when you see your creation come to life. Just something to consider." She kissed him lightly before walking out the door. Erik stood on the doorframe, watching her leave.

"Why?" he called after her.

"I just want to see you happy", she turned around and shouted back. "It's a rare and beautiful sight." She started running and hurried along the road until she caught up to two familiar blonde-haired figures in front of her.

„Yana!"

Yana turned, along with Piotr, and waited for her.

„Alina", she said. „You're late. I thought I understood wrong, and had to wait at the entrance."

„No, no", she huffed. „I'm sorry! I wouldn't leave you alone like that!"

„It's fine", Yana smiled. „Are you excited?"

„Oh, I'm so excited! I've never been to a park this big before!" Alina looked at her with sparkling eyes. „And you?"

„No, where would I go?" Yana laughed. „And Piotr gets to see it too. He'll get spoiled from all the pretty things he's seeing, so young."

„I won't!" Piotr remarked, visibly offended.

„See?" Alina smiled at her. „He says he won't. That settles it."

The entrance to the park was absolutely packed – nearly everyone came to see it; even the people who couldn't afford it stood outside and looked curiously. George Tilyou gave a little speech – quite a funny one, Alina noticed; the rest of the speeches were quite boring but Tilyou seemed confident enough in his success that he spoke openly and joked, until the audience practically ate from his hand. He was a charming, convincing businessman – Alina could understand how he was getting along so well with Jack.

Just as she thought that, another familiar figure quietly appeared next to her, tipping his hat politely to reveal a mass of curly dark hair.

„Hey, Jack", Alina greeted him. „You've shaved your mustache!"

„Yeah. I think it makes me look more approachable", Jack scratched his chin, smiling. „Especially to children."

„You don't really work with children", Alina remarked.

„No, I work with you and your brave knight", Jack winked. „In any case, I just dropped by to say hello. I'm glad to see you – but now I have to go chat with an awful lot of really bigheaded people who came to the opening to be seen, since your darling is adamant not to take over any of _that_ part of the job. I'm sure it would be boring to you, so go ahead and have fun."

„Oh, alright", Alina said. „I'm sorry you have to work even today."

„It's fine. I do like mingling. If I get George alone, I might be able to talk him into having a few drinks later", he said. „Funnily enough, we were closer friends _before_ we worked together on this."

„Oh, alright. Fingers crossed you get him out", Alina laughed. „Say hi to mr. Tilyou from me as well. And Erik."

„Certainly, my fair lady", Jack tipped his hat as he went on his way.

Alina strolled through the park in amazement – even though the whole area was absolutely packed with people, she still could find her way around and with a little patience she got them into some of the rides – the workers did remember her talking to Jack, and were willing to do some little favors and get them some extra seats. Yana led Piotr everywhere he wanted; he barely registered her and she had to constantly check on him so he wouldn't get lost in the sea of people. Alina noticed it stressing her out; she was just wondering what she might do about it when she saw two other familiar figures standing not far from them.

„Sam!" she yelled after them. „Walter!"

The boys turned around and hurried to her. Jack must have correctly guessed Erik's wishes - either that, or he invited Sam on his own accord, seeing as he did have a soft spot for the less fortunate kids.

„Listen, boys, I have a proposition", she looked at Sam, then gestured to Yana and Piotr to come as well. „Sam, you're a responsible young man, aren't you?"

Sam shrugged, not too eager to be burdened with responsibilities on this blessed day of his life.

„Listen, I have so many of these tokens for various attractions and rides", she took them out of her bag. „I'm willing to give them all to you, under one condition", she waved them in front of the boys. Their eyes went wide with something very close to actual _hunger._

„Yes?" Sam asked carefully.

„I want you to take care of this little man", she gestured at Piotr, „so that his mom gets some rest. If that's alright with you, Yana, of course. Piotr already knows Walt, don't you?"

„Heeey!" Piotr greeted Walt cheerfully. Walt waved back at him, somewhat hesitant.

„In any case, he's great and won't bother you at all, but I want you to keep close watch on him so he doesn't get lost among all these people. At the end of the day, find us here and we'll all get hot dogs. My treat", she announced. „Is everyone alright with that?"

„Is your nose better?" Piotr interrupted, looking at Walt seriously.

„Huh? Yeah, it's no big deal. It healed." Walter replied somewhat confused.

„It's the muffins", Piotr nodded solemnly. „Muffins healed you."

„Ha!" Walter laughed. „If I ate enough, would they also fix my grades?"

„Maybe", Piotr shrugged. „I dunno. You should try."

„Alright, fine", Sam ran his hand across his face, listening to that exchange of nonsense. „We'll take him. He's great. I believe you."

Yana pointed a strict finger at him. „He's gentle. If you make him cry, I murder you."

„I wouldn't dare, ma'am."

„Good", she smiled. „Have fun."

Alina watched from a distance, smiling to herself as Yana ran after them at least three times to tell Sam another important thing to watch for when dealing with Piotr; Sam had finally lost his patience and told her he could _goddamn handle it, I have three younger siblings please leave us alone –_ and as Yana finally started to admit defeat and turned to come back to Alina, she heard something she didn't expect to.

"Hello", a quiet voice whispered right next to Alina. She nearly jumped from surprise and turned around quickly to see a shape in the shadows she hadn't noticed before.

"You're here!"

"Quieter", he said.

"Sorry", Alina lowered her voice, smiling. "I'm really glad you came."

"Somebody told me I'd regret it if I wasn't present for the opening. Something-something-once-in-a-lifetime", Erik smiled.

"I thought you'd hate it here, with all the people", she remarked.

"I do. Luckily, I built this park, so I know where to hide", he replied, walking slowly out of the shadow. He was dressed a little too warm for Spring - scarf and hat still on his head, wrapped carefully to hide the edges of the mask and cast a shadow over the rest of his face. "I won't stay long", he said. " _But,_ I've considered what you said. And I wanted to ask you, are you busy this evening?"

"Not at all", she smiled.

"In that case, I'd like to continue our breaking-and-entering tradition. Would you like to come here with me, after dark? It will be locked, nobody should be here. I can show you some things around here. Things most people won't get to see, or think to look for."

"Oh, incredible", Alina's lips spread into a mischievous grin he was starting to see on her quite often. "I can't wait. When and where?"

"Just meet me here around ten", he nodded and turned around.

"That's quite late", she called after him. "I'll have you know I'm not that kind of lady, mister!"

"Or any other kind, really", she heard a chuckle as he disappeared again.

ooo

Alina wandered through the park with Yana until well after sundown – Piotr stayed up well past his bedtime, excited to be playing with two older boys; and it took Alina having to take Sam aside and explain that the park would _still be here tomorrow, and they can go again but right now they all really need to get going before it closes or the child collapses –_ for them to finally leave. Alina went back to her house but only had time to freshen up and put on another warmer layer before she went back outside and towards the park entrance again. The sun had set while she was inside, and the night was promising to be clear and well-lit by the moon. She reached the entrance and waited patiently until she heard him behind her again.

„Hello", Erik said, his smile looking slightly more shy than usual in the pale moonlight. „Are you ready? Or have you had enough for today?"

„I have no doubt this will be an entirely new experience now that you're here", she remarked happily, wrapping her arm around his. He smiled slightly wider as he kissed her lightly and led her inside.

He led her to one of the larger buildings – the one with the maze, Alina remembered, and stopped in front of the door to take out his keys.

„You have your own keys to the park?" Alina asked in amusement. „Did you make them yourself?"

„Yes. I think I deserve them", he smiled as he opened the door and politely let her into the building. Once inside, he turned on the lights – the building, unlike the others, actually had electricity as it was completely closed without any windows. Alina followed as they crossed the entrance hall and stopped at the beginning of the maze – it was quite big, that much she remembered from the blueprints; but she couldn't guess its size – all the walls were entirely made of numerous mirrors, as well as the ceiling, with only the floor made of some normal, non-reflecting material. Erik stopped and looked at her slightly awkwardly as she blinked at the swirling illusions.

"So, this is it", he said.

"The mirror maze?" Alina turned around. It looked incredibly confusing to her; dozens of her own reflections swirling around in all angles, seemingly going into infinity. She had a strange thought that if she stayed too long in here, she might forget if she, herself, was real or just one of the reflections. _Also, I did not realize before how frizzy my hair is in the back. God damn it. Ignorance was bliss._

"Yes. I noticed you liked it when I showed you the blueprints, so I thought I'd take you here. I mean, you can go anytime you want, but I thought you'd like… I have something more challenging for you", he rambled. "If you're interested, that is."

"I'm interested", she smiled, turning to him.

"In that case, you have to solve this maze", he waved his hand around him. "There is a way to solve it - more than one way, it's up to you how you play it. But I won't be helping you. However, I'll give you one hint: don't trust the mirrors. Don't trust anything you see."

"How will I know I've solved it?" she chuckled.

"Easily. All you have to do is find me at the end of it", he said quietly.

"Oh, so there's a prize at the end, too! That's motivating", Alina grinned. "Alright, I accept the challenge."

"Good luck", he said, and as he did the mirrors started to rotate and the reflections shifted; she never noticed him moving, but as soon as she looked away, he was gone.

Suddenly, as Alina was left alone in the room entirely covered with mirrors she understood what he meant by _don't trust anything you see_ \- she couldn't even tell where the room ended or what shape it was. _Well, if it's a maze, then I suppose it's full of passages and hallways and not rectangular spaces - which means I just have to find the exit that leads to a hallway, for a start._ She looked around again. _That would be the one where my reflection is smaller, because the mirror facing me is further away_. She noticed one such place and walked towards it confidently before bumping into a wall. She shook her head and let out a curse.

"I like your reasoning", Erik's voice said from somewhere around her. "It would have worked if there were fewer mirrors. It's harder to predict how they reflect when there are this many."

"Are you going to judge my mistakes the entire time?" she said, rubbing her shoulder in annoyance.

"Well, I can shut up, if you want me to. But since you can't trust your eyes, it might be useful to hold onto any input you can get", the voice replied. "I'd consider it, if I were you. Nobody else gets hints in here."

"Hmm", she frowned. "Hints come in the same package with sass?"

"Yes", the voice replied with amusement.

"Fine, fine, I'll take it." she tried again. Feeling around with her hands, she went around the room once, noting the tiny seams between the mirrors. She had something of a feeling for the size of the room now - it was roughly three meters by three meters, and it seemingly had no openings.

"This is a sealed room", she said. "I could swear it was open when we came in."

The voice kept silent.

"The mirrors shift, that much I know", she continued. "they don't make much of a sound, so I can presume you're shifting them without me noticing as well, right?" She thought about it for a moment. "Unless they shift on their own accord? Walter said you had a lot of clock-like mechanisms involved. Are they set to shift at certain times?"

The voice kept silent.

"I'm getting close to it, aren't I?" she smiled. "In that case, let's see… I'll just wait until they shift again." She positioned herself in the corner of the room with her back against the wall so she would have a clear view of the entire room and waited. Sure enough, a few minutes later the mirrors shifted and her reflections danced across the room once again. Alina, wary from her previous experience, didn't go straight to the source of shifting but instead felt along the walls with her fingers again until she reached an opening. She stepped into the corridor as the mirrors shifted behind her again, sealing her away from the starting room.

"Very good", the voice said.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you? Watching me struggle from a distance and commenting on it?"

"Oh, immensely."

"I'll get back at you for this some day."

"I'm counting on it."

Alina moved slowly along the halls of the maze, trying to orient herself according to the layout of the building. The mirrors shifted every five or ten minutes, and she had limited time to explore before the reflections would start swirling again and she'd be back at square one, lost and confused. She tried for a while before giving up and leaning on one of the walls, growing slightly frustrated.

"For this to work, this entire building would have to be so small I can cross it in five to ten minutes, and then I'd have to memorize one of the paths in its entirety and wait for the right combination of mirrors to open so I'd be able to cross it. And I don't even know where I am, to be honest." she puffed. "It's not hard to solve in theory, but are you really such an arse to make me do all of that?"

"I really am, if that's how you choose to solve the maze."

"Ah, so there's a better way to do it", she smiled. "I was hoping for that."

The voice kept silent.

"Did you say the solution was to find you at the end of the maze?"

"I did."

"So, wherever I happen to find you, that's the end?"

After a short pause, the voice replied quietly, "Yes."

"Oh, that's a whole new approach to it", Alina suddenly straightened up, grinning. "Why didn't you just say so? It's a much more entertaining game this way."

"I didn't want to make it too easy for you", the voice said with a definite hint of amusement. "There are multiple ways to solve it, and you just went from the most boring one to the one I honestly didn't expect yet. But, certainly, we can play that way."

"People are easier to move and much more fun to play with than mirrors", Alina remarked.

"Really? I'll make it so, then. Instead of playing against the maze, you're now playing against me." As the voice said that, Alina saw a little glimpse of a black coat in one of the mirrors at the very corner of her eye. She almost hurried towards it, when she remembered to put up her hands just in time to prevent another collision.

"So the mirrors move in two ways now, I presume? When they're supposed to, and whenever you make them move?"

"Do you think so?"

"Yes. Can you affect when they're supposed to move as well?"

"Can I?"

Alina laughed out loud in the middle of the room, enjoying the new turn of events. Certainly, Erik wasn't going to make this easy, but he wouldn't make it too hard either - what would be the fun in that? She could bet he would keep close at most times, barely within reach, just to taunt her. She began making her way through the maze again, following the swirling corner of his black coat - except whenever she thought she'd caught the real image, it would turn out to be another reflection; as soon as she thought she'd figured it all out and started trusting her eyes everything would change and confuse her once more. She suddenly had another idea.

"Hah! You really got me", she said sweetly after another mirage disappeared.

"I told you not to trust anything you see." she saw the glimpse of black once more, but the voice made the mistake by speaking at the same time - and she could tell it came from the other end of the corridor.

"I see. And can I trust what I hear?" she said, running towards the other end. She almost reached the end of the corridor and saw another, definitely real, glimpse of black when the mirror moved right in front of her and stopped her right in her tracks.

"Clever trick, darling." she heard, this time from some direction she couldn't pinpoint at all.

"Thank you", she grinned. The mirrors rotated again, blurring her vision, and as she stepped back to look at them she somehow lost her balance and nearly fell.

"What?" she managed. She looked down to see what had tripped her. There seemed to be nothing there, aside from the small semicircles forming around each individual mirror - upon further inspection, she saw that they were, in fact, small cracks cut out in the floor.

"Oh, I'm so stupid" she laughed. "I never noticed that before - the floor underneath the mirrors can also move! These are rotating discs!"

"Yes", the voice replied. "Good observation."

"It's not just the room shifting, it's me as well! If I stand on the disc, it can move me around - everything is covered in mirrors so can't tell if I'm the one moving or the walls."

"Indeed."

"That's unfair", she laughed. "the more things I figure out, the more you change the game. You can keep making it harder, but what's the point to that?"

"The point is, you can't control the maze. You have to solve the puzzle."

"Ah", she said. She scratched her chin, thinking for a moment. "That's a hint, isn't it? I can't control the maze?"

The voice kept silent again.

"The trick is to make _you_ move it in such a way for me to reach you, isn't it?"

"If you choose to play that way, yes."

"Hah!" she grinned. "So I'm not playing _against you_ at all - I'm playing with you!"

"I suppose that's a valid way of looking at it."

"Alright, then", she said. "Since I assume you can see me this whole time, I'll just stand on one of these discs and let it take me where it will." she positioned herself on the disc and stood still, smiling to herself, but nothing happened.

"If you want to move the disc, I can do that. But you have to answer a question", the voice said. "If you answer a riddle convincingly, the path will take you closer to me. If not, you might get lost again."

"That sounds fair."

"Alright. First riddle." he paused, thinking about it some more. "What makes a man man, and not a beast?"

"Hmmm. And there is one correct answer to this?"

"Not necessarily. You just have to convince me."

She thought about it. "I suppose that depends on who you're asking?"

"I'm asking you, obviously."

"That's fair", she trailed off, lost in thought. "I actually don't know", she admitted. "My first answer would have been - the ability to think, but some animals can think and solve puzzles as well, I've seen it. And some men who can think, on the other hand, are quite monstrous to me. I'd say music and art, but birds can sing as well - whereas some of the most humane people I know cannot. Then, I wanted to say the ability to love and care for others - but the same problem applies. Some animals can love, and some men cannot, and yet they still have the right to call themselves men. So, I don't know."

The mirrors remained unmoving. She could see at the corner of her eye dozens of her reflections with their brow furrowed in thought.

"Maybe the difference is whether there are others willing to vouch for your personhood?" the voice suggested after some hesitation.

"I wouldn't say so. People are easily persuaded one way or the other."

"What is your answer, then?"

"I don't know", she admitted. "My answer is, I suppose, that I don't know. I'd say that anyone with the ability to claim personhood would have to have the right to it - and yet some people who don't have that ability should have that right all the same. In the end, maybe it doesn't matter."

The mirrors shifted and she found herself in a different corridor. "Was that the correct answer?"

"I don't know either. But it was convincing."

Alina stepped along the hallway and reached the end, stopping right before she stepped on another circular disc.

"I have a puzzle as well", she announced.

"That's not how the game works."

"The game has changed at least three times already, and if you're the only one who can do that, that's cheating", she raised an eyebrow.

"Alright, if you want to be difficult. Ask."

"What made you build this?" Alina gestured around her. "I have never seen you look into a mirror willingly, and you obviously hate them, yet this is so beautifully constructed and it's the first place you decided to show me. Why?"

The voice kept silent for the longest time yet. Alina was starting to think she'd offended him when he finally spoke.

"Because you can't trust your eyes in here. Everything that looks real, could be an illusion. You have to let things other than your senses guide you."

"Convincing", Alina stepped on the rotating disc.

"My turn", Erik said. "Why is the woman who likes to have everything under control alright with being guided blindly through a maze of mirrors that move on their own?"

"The mirrors don't move on their own", Alina smiled. "They're being moved by a man."

"And you trust in your ability to control the man who controls the mirrors?"

"No, I trust the man himself. I trust you, obviously", she replied with more affection in her voice than he expected.

The disc moved silently and another corridor opened. Alina walked to the end and stopped just in front of another rotating disc.

"When was the first time you realized you liked me?" She asked with a very self-satisfied grin on her face.

"What? I'm not telling you that."

"Really? Don't you want to know _my_ answer? I'll tell you, but only if you tell me yours."

The voice replied quietly, "I do."

Alina waited patiently, same smug grin still on her face.

"The first time?" Erik's voice hesitated. "Alright. It was when we were sleeping in Yana's kitchen on our first night here. You said something you thought would offend me, and you got very flustered and started apologizing too much."

Alina blinked. "What?"

"You're cute when you blush."

She stepped on the disc, her brow furrowed with pretend annoyance as she tried to stop a smile from spreading across her face.

"And you?" Erik said, barely above a whisper.

"I realized I liked you first when we talked about books in that horrible ship cabin", she said cheerfully. "I realized I couldn't wait for you to finish each book, because you always had something interesting to say about them when I asked, and I really wanted excuses to keep talking to you."

"Really? Back then?"

"Yes", she laughed, blushing slightly. "I realized I _really_ liked you, however, when Yana invited you to her Easter dinner without telling me. I got horribly jealous."

Erik let out a single surprised laugh. "Alright. Unexpected, but convincing." The disc moved, and Alina walked further along the corridor. Erik looked down at her as he walked through the space between the maze and the actual ceiling, on the two-way mirror that covered the top of the maze, allowing him to see her but not her to see him. Alina was trailing cheerfully through the corridors, and Erik suddenly felt incredibly stupid and cowardly. This woman was walking confidently through the maze being led only by his voice, while he had to hide behind countless mirrors and a carefully planned game only to ask a few questions. While there were other things he wanted to _tell her tell her tell_ ask her, he suddenly decided this was not the way to do it and quickly climbed down through a trapdoor from the mirrored ceiling and walked through the maze towards her.

"Next puzzle?" Alina asked, standing on a disc surprised by the sudden silence, when all the mirrors shifted in a dizzying whirlpool again to reveal Erik standing right in front of her, looking surprisingly shy with his hands clasped in front of him.

"No. You won", he said, stretching his arms out slightly. It was a gesture of mock defeat, but Alina seemed to take it differently as she threw herself right into his open arms.

"Ha!" She laughed victoriously. "I'm the smartest person on this goddamn island!"

ooo

"Sam and Walter kept asking me all about you today", she said as she walked beside him out of the building, holding her hand tightly around his. "You're gathering quite a numerous following of naughty children, you know."

"They are _your_ children, Alina, they just keep getting stuck to me when you're not around", he groaned. "Can't you recommend them some other adult as your substitute? Literally anyone else would be better."

"I could, but they seem to like you the best. I didn't tell them to do that." she winked. "Don't pretend you don't like it. Nobody ever asked you to talk to Walter, you did that yourself. Just admit you like kids and move on."

"I like Piotr."

"Alright. Fine. I'll just tell Walter you said you don't like him", she teased. Erik looked at her in shock and bewilderment for a second before looking away, composing himself with a loud cough.

"That's what I thought", Alina shrugged, stifling a laugh.

Erik led her to the bottom of the large Ferris wheel and stopped to look at her.

„I can't make the whole wheel move", he said. „It would attract attention."

„That's fine. We don't have to."

„ _However",_ he continued, „I have built a secret little room in the center of it. We can climb to the top from the inside, and then there's a little window we can open and look outside. It's a nice view. If you want to."

ooo

"In all seriousness, I do understand you're feeling overwhelmed by all the people around", she said as they climbed the incredibly narrow staircase. "Sometimes I also wish everyone would just stop needing things from me and leave me alone."

"You've said that already. And yet, the first thing you did when we sailed was befriend a sailor boy." Erik walked in front of her, careful not to go too quickly as she was holding on to his sleeve in the darkness.

"Well… he was very funny."

"And then Yana. And an entire village, then Jack, and…" he waved his hand. "I don't think I need to go on."

"It kind of happened on its own, to be fair." She stopped as he unlocked and opened another door, leading her into a tiny room; he opened the window and moved aside so she could take a look.

„Oh, I can see the entire island", Alina leaned slightly. „And the sea in the distance. This is - very beautiful, especially in this moonlight."

„Mhm", Erik mumbled behind her as he looked. After some consideration, he gently wrapped his arm around her waist from behind, pulling her closer as he rested his chin on top of her head. Alina said nothing for a change; she merely sighed as she leaned back into him. He enjoyed the comfortable silence for a few minutes before he gathered the courage to ask his last question.

„You say you enjoy privacy and solitude, but you keep gathering people around you", he started. „Like moths to a flame. I never expected to be surrounded by so many people in my life, just for the fact I happen to be close to you."

„Hm." She frowned. „I'm good at giving people what they need. Consolation, support, encouragement, an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on. They get addicted to it, I think."

„Is any of it honest?" he fixed his gaze on the distant lights. „Or do you simply wish to be seen as a good person?"

„All of it is honest. I do care about people feeling good and living a good life", she said. „Even if it doesn't mean I necessarily want them in _my_ life."

„What is the distinction, then?" he asked, focusing very hard on his voice so it wouldn't by any means tremble. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know. „Between those you want to help, and those you truly care about?"

Alina looked at him in surprise. „Obviously, the ones I do want in my life are the ones who care about me as well, not what they can get from me."

„That's a fairly low standard."

„Do you think so? How many people have _you_ met that truly cared for you and liked you as a person, as opposed to liking what you did to make them feel good?"

„Fair point", he shrugged. „It should be said, _I_ always liked you better when you were yourself, even when it was less pleasant than... when you try to be pleasant", he added hurriedly. _What a poetic wording. I should write these things in advance; as soon as I have to improvise saying something sweet to her I sound like an illiterate child._

"Yes, I've noticed", she smiled into the starry sky. "It's so strange. I felt offended at first, even, that you didn't appreciate all this effort I was putting into saying the right things."

"I did appreciate it", he admitted. "I just didn't believe it. Hearing exactly what I needed to hear to keep me calm - it seemed too good to be true, felt like a trick. But that's not your fault."

"That makes sense. I just didn't think about it that way back then."

Comfortable silence spread around as they looked at the flickering stars - at least, one of them found it comfortable. Erik once again felt a sudden need to say something - it had started to creep up on him in happier, more intimate moments, the gnawing _you need to tell her need to tell her need to tell her_ \- the inner voice didn't even have the basic decency to specify what it was he needed to say; should he tell her what he's done to end up here, and what kind of person he really is? Should he tell her how much he loves her and can't imagine living without her anymore, and how much it scares him? Should he tell her what a neurotic mess he is underneath all this self-control, and how taxing it is for him to constantly keep himself in check? Should he tell her about the symphony? _Any of those will do. Anything that will make it all seem less unreal._

 _Is there such a thing I can say?_

 _Maybe. Try them all and see what happens._

 _That doesn't sound like a good idea._

 _Then keep reaching out forever on the very edge of real closeness, too cowardly to jump -_

"Is something wrong?", Alina asked.

"No. Why? Is it?"

"I just thought you seemed troubled."

"No, no - I was just thinking." he paused, trying to compose a sentence she deserved to hear, but as usual, he stopped halfway through and compromised. "I… really enjoy these shenanigans we do."

"Me too", she smiled.

"And I'm glad we're doing them together", he continued. "I… there isn't anyone I'd rather be here with. Not even alone. I know that doesn't make sense, but I always preferred being alone, and now I prefer coming here with you."

"I understand. I feel the same." As she smiled, he noticed the same wrinkles around her eyes he saw for the first time in the crammed, dimly-lit ship cabin.

 _No, you don't understand. This is not even what I wanted to say._

Erik looked at her, realizing his mouth was still open as if he wanted to say something else. He quickly closed it, shaking his head and looking away. _Maybe next time._

END OF CHAPTER 17

1 * This is actually still present in some parts of Croatia and Hercegovina as the custom of washing your face in a bowl filled with flower petals on Palm Sunday. I'm pretty sure it's pagan in origin, and Alina has enough inappropriate old aunties who love old tales of fairies and witchcraft. Violets are often found as a symbol of faithfulness, white daisies are often associated with patience, red poppies with remembrance and sacrifice, and dandelions with survival through hardship (as far as I've read, sources vary). I'll leave it up to the reader to decide if Erik is aware of this symbolism or if the pesky fairies guided his hand when he picked the flowers.

 _A/N:_ _Have you ever talked to someone who takes three hours and seven digressions to tell you one simple, slightly-uncomfortable sentence? Erik is like that, but worse. I reckon talking openly to people feels to him like when you have to send a formal e-mail to a college professor who keeps replying with "ok, sure (sent from iphone)"._


	19. Leaving

19\. Leaving

May 1895, Coney Island

After the park opened, it didn't take long for the guests to start pouring in. The attractions were a huge success, and even Erik with his relatively humble percentage of profits soon found that he had trouble spending all the money he was earning. Jack, on his part, had no trouble spending the money he was earning; he had some things planned for a long time and he happily threw himself into renovating his house, sending money to his less-fortunate relatives, and investing in some more good whiskey. Erik visited him several more times, always with some very good excuse for coming, and Jack happily invited him in every time as if it was his own idea to talk him into staying. Jack himself kept the habit of coming to drink coffee with Erik and Alina in the mornings, often finding Yana there as well.

Erik, originally eager to move away from this damned island as soon as possible, found it suddenly hard to leave, which he admitted to Alina one evening as she snuggled up next to him in an armchair.

"Oh, I understand. I've moved before. It's a huge bother." Alina scoffed. "Do you know how many things I've managed to just simply lose between two houses? Incredibly many."

"That's not really helping me, darling", he smiled at her. "How do you say "darling" in your language?"

"Depends on if you're speaking to a man or woman, and if you're trying to be more romantic or platonic, and more formal or informal, but…" she laughed. "if I was to call you darling in Croatian, I'd say _dragi._ If you were to say it to me, you'd say _draga._ "

"Draga", he repeated.

"You're really good at this."

"I'm generally good at reproducing sounds correctly, yes", he chuckled. "Then, draga, it's not losing things that bothers me. I don't have many belongings to begin with", _at least I haven't had the chance to collect many since they all burned down back in Paris,_ "I can carry all the important ones with me at once." he thought about it for a moment. "I think I just got used to life here. People don't pay much attention to me anymore, either."

"Our best friend also lives next door", Alina offered.

"That's nice as well. I've never expected to… have a place I wouldn't want to leave", he admitted. "Do you want to leave? I don't imagine you're used to living in an immigrant village. If you want to, we can move, of course", he added, somewhat worried. _Or you could move by yourself. Please don't do that._

"I'm used to living all alone in a city that was much gloomier than this place, so this is a welcome change", she laughed. "I don't think I'd live here forever, but don't worry. I'm not in a hurry to move either."

"Hmm." Erik smiled slightly to himself, running his fingers through her hair.

"Where did you live before? Not with auntie, I suppose?"

"Uh...no, no. I lived alone", he said, contentment draining quickly out of him to be replaced with unease. He suddenly felt the strong need to _tell her tell her already tell her_ get up and walk away, but he couldn't do it with Alina sitting on him; he forced himself to stay calm.

"You don't talk much about your life in Paris", she remarked.

"There isn't much to talk about", he said slowly. _Coward._ Alina looked at him for a moment with an expression he couldn't figure out - it was such a stupid, obvious lie she couldn't possibly have believed it; the very first thing Antoinette told her about him was that he was running from the police - and he looked away, unable to stand her gaze.

"Alright. But you do know you could tell me anything if you wanted to?"

"Yes, yes" he said impatiently. _It's not your listening skills I'm worried about._ "Listen, I… I'll tell you. But not today."

"There is no rush", Alina replied lazily. She had something to say to him as well, and was waiting for the right moment. She took his hand and put it back on her head. "You can keep playing with my hair now."

"Oh, I'm allowed to?" he teased.

"Yes, I'm granting you that honor. Dragi."

Since it was decided they'd stay for a while longer, Erik took to adding some much needed additions to the house over the next few weeks. As the weather grew warmer and sunnier, it was also getting easier to fix things or carry them without being interrupted by sudden rain or snow. Such as, for example, more chairs - as it seemed people kept gathering in their home, and Alina enjoyed it, Erik simply admitted defeat and went out by himself if it bothered him. Alina was slowly starting to worry less when he was out – he still made it a point to tell her where he was going and when to expect him, in the aftermath of last year's close call; but she no longer waited in the kitchen for him to come back every time. It was a bearable compromise, and as much as Erik hated to admit it to himself, it was slightly reassuring to know that if he was… _indisposed,_ at least somebody would know where to find him – somebody that knew and understood the isolated places he often visited. He added a better lock on the door and some more furniture, and asked Alina if there was anything at all she would like to have.

"A mirror would be nice, actually", she said. "I'll keep it in my room."

"That's all? Anything else?" he asked. "We can afford it."

"Hmmm", she tapped her finger on her nose, thinking. "The kitchen table is rocking."

"Oh, I noticed. I fixed it already, it was driving me insane."

"To be honest, we don't need that much", she shrugged. "We've had all the necessities ever since we've had a steady income."

Erik sighed, slightly frustrated, before realizing what the problem was. "Allow me to rephrase that. Is there anything you'd _like to_ or _want to_ have, as opposed to _need_ , which would make you happy? Please tell me."

Alina smiled. "A couch would be nice. Better curtains. Some flower pots." she looked around. "Bookshelves. A little table we could put here", she waved her hands at the middle of the room, "you know, so we could sit at the couch, all of us, instead of at the kitchen table, and drink tea."

"Uh…"

"Speaking of books, we do need some place for you to keep your papers", she continued. "One drawer is no longer enough. I need my own place to store my class notes, too. We should get you a separate shelf so you can organize your work. To put it simply, a place where one plans to live needs to have a lot of horizontal surfaces, I've found. Especially since you have the habit of putting things down when you're distracted and forgetting about them", she nodded at him.

"I do?"

"Definitely."

"But I always know where to find them."

Alina raised an eyebrow. "You didn't notice me putting them away from the table when I'm cooking and into your drawer? Or on the desk in your room?"

Erik blinked. "You've been touching my papers?"

"Saving them from natural disasters, yes. Other than that, no."

"Thank you. But don't do that, please? But… thank you?" he shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't remember all the things you mentioned. Truth be told, I don't know what constitutes as _better curtains_. I don't know where to buy any of these things either. I think we'll have to go to the city."

"Oh, that's alright", she grinned. "We'll ask Jack to help. I'm sure he knows, he's in the city all the time, besides, I've seen what he's done to his own house. We should all go, in fact!"

"Can we not- "

"Yana should help us decorate! She has great taste!"

"-make a huge deal of it?"

"No!" she replied cheerfully. "It'll be fun, I think."

"It's our house", he slowly raised his hands to rub his temples. "We're the only ones living in it. Shouldn't it be up to us only what we decide to do with it?"

Alina looked at him, suddenly calmer. "Maybe you're right. But we will need _some_ help, so I propose that we do ask them. But we don't have to go overboard with it."

"That would be nice."

So, the next time Yana and Jack both came over for tea on a sunny Sunday afternoon, Alina started the subject. Erik sat a little further away, reading the papers; he usually liked being on the margin, but he would readily to join in on the conversation any time he wanted to.

"We've been thinking, about whether we'd keep living here or not", Alina started. "Truth be told, I'm not too eager to move. Neither of us are."

"This is a very cozy castle, my lady", Jack nodded. "You'll be fine here a little longer."

"Yana", she turned to her. "This village has been reasonably safe for as long as I've been here. I don't think something in New York we could afford right now would be much better. What do you think?"

Yana shrugged. "Don't tell people how much money you're making. Other than that, it's alright."

"I wasn't planning to", Alina laughed.

"I mean, don't suddenly start living like a rich person, while you're still here", Yana looked at both Alina and Erik. "People here are used to being poor. They won't like it. But they like _you,_ both of you, so you're safe. They still remember everything you did last year."

"We _were_ going to make our house a little nicer", Alina admitted. "But nothing drastic. I just wanted it to look nice for when Amelija comes. I wanted to ask if you'd go shopping with me."

"Back home you would ask me if I can help you sew the curtains by yourself", Yana laughed. "Of course. I'll go with you."

"I keep hearing about your sister", Jack said. "I'm curious. What's she like? Is she as charming as you?"

"Tough question. She's much more charming, and much less, at the same time."

"Oh?"

"She's incredibly sweet, and also a complete bitch", Alina clarified.

"Sounds wonderful. I love her already", Jack grinned back at her.

"Yes, I feel like you might. You two have a lot in common", she rolled her eyes. "Well, it's settled then", Alina clapped her hands. "Thanks for helping us. I'm glad we're staying here."

"Now that you're ready to move up in the world, you two should really start working toward full citizenship", Jack said.

"I am." Alina remembered the letters she sent to the Croatian Federation. "We need to have papers, and no criminal record, and we need to have proof we've lived here for a while. Other than that it seems like random grace they bestow upon immigrants at will. Do you think they'd accept me?"

"Of course. I'm willing to throw in some extra incentive, but I don't think it will even be necessary. You'll just have to wait."

"Great." It was a big step for her, but it wasn't as if she was planning to go back.

Jack turned to Erik. "You should do the same."

"No." he shook his head.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't have any papers, and I'm still wanted back in France, which they will discover immediately if they start digging", he said, his tone flat.

"What are you wanted for?" Jack raised his eyebrows.

"Arson." He looked at Jack defiantly. "The good people of Paris think I tried to burn down Opera Garnier."

"Well, did you?" Jack asked. Alina had to congratulate him on how well he was taking all this. He didn't seem at all fazed by what he was hearing, whereas _she_ happened to be the teeniest bit disturbed.

"I didn't _try to,_ but it did burn. It was something of a joined effort, and a little bit of carelessness on my side", Erik said. Alina noticed he was tense as a bowstring, his spine completely straight and his hands tapping a strange rhythm on the table. "There was significant damage to the interior, but from what I've heard, it's fully repaired now."

"Did anyone die?"

"No. Only me, if my friend succeeded in convincing the police."

"I might be able to handle that", Jack sighed. "I'll see if I can get you some fake papers - you'll probably need a new name, and… I can't believe you haven't told me your last name yet."

"I don't have one", Erik grinned, completely tense and stiff as a board. Something was terribly wrong. His face was hard to read as usual, but his eyes had a distinct look that rang all of the alarms in Alina's head. _Jack needs to stop._ But stop what, exactly? Jack's old habit of asking very personal questions very directly hardly bothered Erik anymore once he figured out he could simply ignore any of his questions he didn't like and Jack would back down; Alina didn't understand why he couldn't just do the same now."I was disowned as a child. My mother wished for me to never be associated with her when she sol- left me, and I fully intend to respect that wish. I won't say that name aloud ever again, let alone use it", Erik finished, his face still contorted in a cruel parody of a smile.

 _That's so horrible, so horrible I want to cry._ Alina was torn between wanting to comfort him and knowing she had to act natural and let him keep his pride so he wouldn't feel like a freak. She wished he'd told her all of this before. It was hard enough to bring him back from his fury and bitterness when he talked about things that happened to him even when they were alone – with more people around, it would be near impossible. Yana glanced quickly at her and then desperately tried to lighten the conversation.

"In any case, you can always marry Alina and take her name", she said, smiling. Jack laughed in relief, while Alina blushed. She opened her mouth to say that she did not intend to marry someone just to chain them to her legally, when she noticed Erik staring at Yana with a look she truly hoped to never see again.

"Is that very funny?" he said, purposely breathing very deeply with his voice barely a whisper. "Me being married?" Yana's eyes turned wide; she was truly afraid.

"No, it's not", Alina said in her calmest, most reassuring voice. "Being forced into marriage is unacceptable. You should - you _deserve to -_ have a choice in the matter, not be bound to me just so you'd be a person in the eyes of the law." She tried to choose her words carefully, but it was hard as she had no idea what exactly upset him.

For what it was worth, he was no longer looking at Yana. He shifted his gaze to Alina, with such burning fury that she wanted to just run away on the fastest boat she could find back to Croatia, so she'd never have to see that look in those yellow eyes again. That thought lasted for a brief moment, until she remembered that back in Croatia there were also some people who liked to look at her like that and happened to be much better at using it to their advantage – Alina forced herself to keep looking into his eyes, not backing down. _Don't let him see how afraid you are. Don't grant anyone that kind of power over you again._ _But, God, I am afraid._ She felt her fists balling up under the table.

"My personhood is questionable one way or another", Erik whispered. "I'm afraid getting married wouldn't make me any more of a person than I am, which is not at all.  
Je préfèrerais vivre comme un fantôme.1"

Having said that, Erik stood up from the table, took his coat and walked out the door without another word. The gnawing, poisonous voice in the back of his head went from a whisper to demanding thunderously, _tell her tell her tell her tell her tell her TELL HER TELL HER TELL HER, YOU LYING TREACHEROUS DEMON TELL HER COWARD TELL HER_ and the black spots that clouded his sight only left enough of his surroundings visible that he could find his way out before he did something he would likely not remember but regret nevertheless.

The rest of them could only look frozen in shock after him as he left.

ooo

He didn't come back that day. Or the next. Or the one after that.

The first day Alina discovered he was gone and hadn't come back to sleep, she scoured the entire island with Jack and Yana and whoever else she could think of that knew him and might've liked him enough to help. She turned every rock, looked in every corner and did everything short of contacting the police or anyone who might feel the need to lock him up after they find him - she was mad with worry, but not yet stupid. They spent the entire day looking for him, and when it got dark they had to coerce and threaten Alina into giving up. There was no trace of him; he'd disappeared into thin air. Alina searched every single hiding place he ever showed her, every secluded beach and cave. _Sadly, no matter how many of them he showed to me, he apparently always had one more._ At least if somebody had killed him or hurt him, they'd have found the body, she thought to herself. It didn't provide any consolation. Alina didn't go to work that day.

The second day there was still no sign of him, but Alina still had to go to work; Yana came to her to walk together in an attempt to cheer her up.

"He'll be alright", she said.

"You don't know that! He could be –" Alina's eyes were red, Yana noticed, and the dark circles under her eyes darker than normal. She looked as if she was stretched very, very thin.

"Maybe, but I don't think so. I think he's hiding", Yana offered.

"Why the hell is he hiding?"

"I'm not sure, but I think he'll be back soon. Try to relax."

"How on earth can I relax in a situation like this? How could he just leave without a trace? Normal people don't do that! You can't just get up and leave like nothing happened!"

"I know", she sighed. "It's not very nice. But he was never really normal to begin with."

"But – "

"It's just a crisis, Alina. Endure it. It'll pass, I'm sure." She was not sure.

"I'm not sure I can forgive him if he doesn't come soon", Alina suddenly cracked and blurted out.

Yana looked at her sharply. "You should tell him that when he comes back. It's time to learn that he can't run away when something upsets him. But don't make it a bigger problem than it is. Once he comes back, it depends on you. Remember who you are. You solve problems; you don't pour vodka on fire."

 _I wish I could burn down this entire island and myself with it._ Alina managed to contain herself for a little more, because she had to work and didn't want the kids to notice how upset she was. They all noticed, but no-one said anything.

Except for Walt, of course. He noticed her distress even before she opened the classroom door that day; he had quite a nose for it. She was giving her best to seem normal, but everything about her was different: her face was tired, her tone was somehow... quieter, her remarks lacked their normal sharpness and confidence, and it seemed as if she was afraid if she said something wrong somebody might die. Walter had had the pleasure to be in many teachers' classes before as they seemed to switch him over to one another when they grew sick of him, and he wondered how he and the rest of class would have reacted if this was some other teacher. Obviously, seeing a sign of weakness was practically an invitation to start causing total mayhem; but somehow, on that particular occasion, nobody in Walter's class seemed to take that invitation, and he wondered why. Maybe they were waiting for him to ignite that spark? He wondered why _he_ didn't want to start taking advantage of her obviously worn-down state, and the only answer he could think of was that he felt sorry for her. Whatever was upsetting her, seemed to put out the sharp light behind her eyes, but Walt caught himself actually missing it. Of course, he doubted that everyone's good behavior would continue if she kept being like this, but Walt would not be the catalyst of rebellion regardless. All he felt when he looked at her was sadness. He sat quietly in his seat that day and never uttered a word unless asked.

He had almost forgotten that he also had lessons with Teacher Alina that day after school, and apparently, so did she. As he kept sitting in his chair after the other students left, Alina raised her head, already prepared to stuff her papers back in her bag, and jumped a little when she remembered.

"Walter! Oh, I'm so sorry, I – I'll be ready in a moment", she put her things back and looked at him.

Walter wondered if it would be considered rude to ask her what was wrong. "We don't have lessons today? If you forgot, that means I'm free to go", he grinned. Normally, this would have made her laugh and tell him to _get back in your seat Walter so help me-_

But today, it seemed to make her more distressed. "Oh god, I'm so sorry! No, no, I promised you we'd practice reading today, don't go –" the tiny note of pleading in her voice unnerved Walter to no end. She had always been polite to him, and would apologize if she was wrong – a rare trait among adults, Walt found – but the fact she was _pleading_ him not to go after she'd done something wrong made him nearly jump out of his skin. It was backwards and wrong.

"Are you alright?" he asked, rudeness be damned. "Did something happen?"

"Uh", she paused like a frightened deer. "No. Nothing you need to worry about."

"Uh-huh."

"In any case, we'll have a short lesson today, and then you can go. But we'll make _some_ progress, alright?"

" _Or_ we could go to the cake shop", Walter said. He was aware how that sounded, but didn't actually care about cake that day; he just had no clue what the hell to do when _she_ was upset, but when he was upset she'd take him to a walk and chat with him or to the cake shop and he could only assume that was what she liked. If she was going to act like a child today, he would be alright with being the parent.

"I can get you some cake from Yana, or anything if you're hungry", she started, but rather than continue with a short speech about the importance of education she simply said, "but I simply don't feel like being in crowded places today. And I don't like sitting. I have something I need to think about, and when I do that, I usually walk."

"Can I help you?" Walter was starting to wonder what the hell was happening to him. He would have to go and trip someone in the hallway later just to feel like himself again.

"No, it really will be fine", she said, looking determined for the first time that day. "But thank you, Walt. You're a very kind young man. I will remember it." She dug around her papers looking for the exercises she had prepared for him earlier. "We'll do these today, and if you're finished I'll let you go early. I'll tell you about it another day, but I have to think first. Alright?"

"Fine."

ooo

On the third day of Erik's disappearance, Alina did something she'd never done before: she went into his room without permission. Normally, she was immensely fond of healthy personal boundaries, and even though they were together he liked to have the option of isolating himself occasionally; she'd always respected that. Today, she was so upset and angry that she couldn't be bothered – if he had a problem with it, he was welcome to come back and tell her. She entered the room and tried to find clues as to where he might be.

His room was completely normal, if a bit cluttered – he always had thousands of papers and supplies lying around everywhere so that he could reach them; while the room was clean and other things were neatly stored, remains of his recent projects were, as always, lying around for her to trip on. She sifted through them carefully – remembering where everything was, like she did when she would dig through her parents' things as a child – but found nothing.

Not entirely true. She found all kinds of things, from music, to blueprints, paper stars and sketches. Some torn-out newspaper articles about cultural events in New York – none of them were this week, so that was a dead end. The sketches were also interesting – his drawings were much better than hers, but that stopped bothering her long ago – there were landscapes, buildings and interesting scenes; but most of all, there was an overwhelming mass of drawings representing mundane, everyday life events. Yana sewing and talking, as she often did. Piotr playing with wooden toys. Yana holding Piotr in her arms and spinning him around. Jack laughing, holding a glass. And then Alina. Alina making paper stars. Alina cooking – there were several of those. Alina in Central Park. Alina sleeping in an armchair with a book on her lap. Alina with flowers in her hair – that one was not really a sketch; it was a beautiful, elaborate charcoal drawing and she could not imagine how or why he had been hiding it from her until now. The list went on and on, Alina offering a book, Alina smiling with the ocean outlined in the background, until she found a small sketch of herself and auntie Giry playing cards in Le Havre. On the bottom of the pile, she found a drawing of auntie Giry reading over her glasses and an ancient, ghostly portrait of a beautiful, ethereal looking woman with curly dark hair and big, sad eyes – the paper was yellowed and it was at the very bottom, looking like it hadn't been touched in ages.

The only thing he never drew, it seemed, was himself – unknown to him, that one motif was covered by her. Still, seeing his drawings reassured her somewhat that he would probably be back – the attention to detail and emotion poured over such minute details of normal everyday life told a story of someone who wished to document and remember every single nice thing that ever happened to him.

She looked around once more.

Nothing in this room indicated he was going to leave. Even his gloves were still on the desk. Apparently, it really was a sudden decision, triggered by God knows what. Alina put everything back where it was and lay down on the floor to despair in peace.

There was a thick layer of dust under his bed, which she only saw from this perspective. That was expected. She couldn't be bothered to clean that thoroughly, either, and she was generally tidier than he was. There was also something else: a small folded piece of paper, on the left side of his bed, unseen from above.

 _If I'm snooping, I might as well do it right._

She took the small piece of paper and unfolded it, instantly recognizing auntie Giry's handwriting. It was a letter, addressed to him, and it was in French. Alina's French was quite bad still, but she could make out the general theme of the letter. She took it with her to the kitchen, along with a small French-English dictionary she'd bought a month ago, and tried to decipher it.

The date on the letter said last November – before they even kissed, and the letter was a sweet, heartfelt message about how Antoinette wished him happiness and how he deserved it. Nothing unexpected and nothing that would make him leave.

Probably the opposite, Alina realized. He keeps it under his bed to have it near him in his weaker moments – it looked worn, as if it had been read many times. It made sense.

What puzzled Alina was the sentence " _Alina comprendra."_ Why was it in a future tense? Was she translating this wrong? No, definitely not. Why not " _Alina comprend_ "? It was probably nothing, but it still bothered her. " _Alina will understand." I'd hate to disappoint her, but I understand nothing right now._

The rain started pouring in buckets outside on the evening of the third day of Erik's absence. Alina sat in the kitchen reading auntie Giry's letter over and over, drowning in panicked tears, when she heard a soft knock on the door.

END OF CHAPTER 19

1 „I would rather live as a ghost."


	20. Confessions

_A/N: Hello everyone! I made this an early update since the last chapter was a cliffhanger. I won't update this friday as I don't have ch21 finished yet, but you can expect it on March 1st, or by the end of next week. I hope you enjoy this one and have a nice day!_

20\. Confessions

Alina nearly fell over in her hurry to open the door, and saw him standing there, looking like a complete mess.

She wanted to shout at him because she had _specifically asked him_ not to do this and now he's done it again and she almost lost her mind waiting for him and wondering what in the world happened. What the hell came over him to disappear for _three entire days? What has he been doing? Where has he been sleeping?_

Having taken just one glance at him, it was clear to her that he probably hadn't slept much since he left. The small part of skin around his eyes that was not covered by the mask was puffy and colored with dark purple circles. His hair was disheveled and he seemed to be a little bit unstable on his feet. At first, it looked like he was drunk, but looking into his eyes Alina saw that they are completely lucid, except…

Frenzied. Panicked. Desperate. He looked like a man preparing to be executed. He watched her intently, and she blinked in confusion.

 _What in the hell?_ The sight was so disturbing that her anger dissipated immediately. If she didn't know him, she'd be terrified at the sight; he looked like a madman escaping from an asylum. She realized he must have hidden somewhere isolated for three days; otherwise someone would have called the police upon seeing him. She'd seen people with this look before, and it meant trouble.

 _But it's my Erik. He's home._ Alina didn't feel afraid when she looked at him; she could barely feel anger in that first moment. The only thing she felt was the need to hug him and ask him if he's alright.

"Are you alright?" she asked numbly, and the question rang absurdly through the silent room.

He didn't answer, just stood there, breathing like he just ran a thousand miles. Alina realized it would be best to get him inside and safe and make sure he didn't do something even stupider. He seemed close to collapsing already.

"Please, come in. I've been waiting for you to come back." She moved aside so that he could pass.

He stood still for another moment, and she was halfway deciding to just grab his sleeve and pull him inside, but thankfully, he snapped out of it and quickly entered, his movements seemingly twitchy, jerky, more ghost-like than before. Alina closed the door behind him, suddenly wishing the door had several more locks.

He shrugged off his coat and threw it on the chair wordlessly, turning to look at her. His shirt was hanging off of his emaciated frame – _looking slightly more emaciated than usual, or is my mind playing tricks on me?_ – wrinkled and dirty and slightly tattered. It was the one Alina had bought for him months ago – simple, white, with no embellishments, made exactly for him. Alina had bought it out of curiosity, to see if he would wear something that isn't black if it suited him well; he wore it all the time and, well, now it was probably ruined. _Life's futility summed up in one object. I should put it in a museum as an exhibit and title it "I tried"._

"Sit down. Drink this tea, all of it –"she gestured at the table – "and wait until I make you something to eat."

"We need to talk", he said. His face was hidden behind the mask and his tone hollow, but his eyes were flickering with fear.

"Oh, we absolutely do need to talk", Alina replied through her teeth. "And we will, soon enough. But not until you've done something rational for a change. I will talk when I'm convinced you can still act like you've got some sense left in you."

Curiously, that did produce an effect. Erik seemed to become aware of how insane he looked and sounded, and he obediently sat down to pour himself some tea. Alina quickly sliced some bread, added a few things and put them in front of him; just butter and jam because she had no idea how his starved stomach would react to anything hard to digest.

"Thank you", he said, taking one. Alina waited until he'd eaten three before she started to talk.

"Can you explain what exactly you've been doing?" she said, in a very, _very_ controlled manner. The correct thing to ask was probably _"Are you alright? What did we do to upset you? What happened to you?"_ but she wasn't very concerned with saying the correct thing.

"I had to think." he said, suddenly looking at the sandwich in his hand like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

" _Think?_ Has it occurred to you to maybe think of _me?_ " Alina slowly let out just a tiny bit of poison she wanted to shoot at him, just enough so she wouldn't explode with the pressure of it.

He looked back at her. "That's all I've been doing."

"Really? _Really?_ Your idea of being considerate is running off for _three days_ while I tear down this island looking for you, pull out half my hair and almost go mad with worry?" She was whispering now, in a voice she rarely used. It was reserved for special situations, and it was the same voice she spoke in when she told her father she wasn't coming home from London after her studies finished. Amelija once told her it made her sound "creepy". He noticed, too. _Abused children are infallible at sensing danger._

"I was fine. There really was no need for that." he said, and hearing that sentence she snapped completely; it felt like a slap to her face. Alina felt a hot flash of fury and she stood up, taking her empty cup and hurling it, full-force, into the wall behind her. She had only so much composure to not throw it at him, or just start hitting him, because she felt if she did that he'd never forgive her.

Never hitting people was a personal oath Alina took years ago, and this was the first time she'd almost broken it. _I'll congratulate myself later for my restraint._ She turned back to him, staring at her in shock and alarm.

"No need for that? A year ago you almost died! I sat by your bed for _two days_ while you were unconscious and prayed to every angel in heaven that you come back to me! You completely selfish, immature, you, you _asshole!_ Do you think you can just do as you please and tell people how to react to it?" she was shouting now, unable to think clearly. Everything she says now will probably be gibberish, she realized. "You think it's alright to just _disappear_ whenever I feel like I can trust you? Do you even give a slightest damn about how I feel?"

His eyes were wide with shock, but he didn't respond.

"Answer me!" Alina shouted. The only remaining fragment of control she had was going into making sure she didn't get too close or wave her hands toward his face. He flinched and spoke, raising his voice as well.

"Yes, of course I do!"

"I doubt it! From where I'm standing, it looks like you wish to keep me on a safe distance!"

 _Amelija once said that the best way to keep a man is to keep him on a safe distance. But I'm not Amelija, and I don't play games. Either I'll have someone I can truly lean on or I won't bother with any of this anymore._ Alina was aware that all this shouting and rage wasn't making her seem charming or seductive or worth staying with, but she didn't care. If he left her for it, she'd be devastated, but it was better than suffering silently and fearing his next absence for the rest of her life.

"Yes, I do!" he yelled, standing up. "A safe distance for _you!_ Because I care about you!"

"If you cared about me you would not have abandoned me!" she shouted, and having said it, her rage deflated like a balloon. Something incredibly ancient and long forgotten inside Alina floated to the surface and tore a crack in the wall upon which she stood as she shouted. He opened his mouth to retort, but stopped himself when she sat back down. Alina closed her eyes and breathed deeply, resting her forehead on her palm and doing her best not to cry. She was not entirely successful at it.

Alina had always thought of herself as a relatively sensible, composed person; one that put others' needs before her own, and one that said the right thing to get the right effect. It was a whole tower of rationalization, repression and defense mechanisms that had been enabling her to live as an independent and highly efficient, functional adult; and it had just crumpled to the ground. She had built that tower out of heavy bricks and stones, upon a simple truth she'd learned as a very young girl:

 _I am alone._

 _I wonder if that stupid bastard will even realize how I feel._

"I'm sorry", he whispered.

Alina shook her head. "I don't care."

"I am sorry", he repeated quickly. He stood up, reaching out with his arms weakly; drawing back when she didn't respond. Alina didn't want to look at him, but she could hear his voice changing. "Sorry, sorry, I am sorry", he repeated, "Désolé, Je suis désolé1", he kept whispering desperately, walking around the room, "Je suis désolé, désolé, désolé… mon Dieu, je suis désolé" he paced around like possessed, and she was so surprised that she turned to look at him. He was pacing around frantically, whispering to himself, running his hands through his hair and over his masked face.

"Désolé, désolé…"

Alina started to worry that her angry outburst may have pushed him over the edge since he was already bursting at the seams when he returned – _if I just caused him a nervous breakdown I'll never forgive myself,_ but as soon as she lifted her head he managed to stop and look at her. For a moment they stared at each other in bewilderment.

"Je suis désolé", he repeated one more time, looking directly into her eyes.

"So am I."

"You have no reason to be", He said after a moment of silence, seemingly remembering how to speak English.

"I still am."

One more moment of silence, and he spoke again, very slowly, as if he was pulling every word out of himself by sheer force.

"I never meant to upset you", he swallowed, "and I want you to know, no matter what else you hear today, that I…" his voice cracked and he started again. "I want nothing more than to be close to you. I never wanted to leave you, ever. But I think I still may have to, in the end."

"Why?" she asked, feeling her eyes well up again.

"Because… I may have deluded you into thinking I'm someone better than I am, and I can't keep doing that because the further the lie goes, the better you think I am, the less I actually deserve you. You need to hear the truth now and judge for yourself, and if you want, I'll leave afterwards and you'll never see me again." He sighed. "I was contemplating doing that before, sparing my dignity and leaving you with a false memory, but I couldn't do it, I had to come back and see you one more time. You deserve to make this choice, I see that now, otherwise I'm just inflicting more hurt upon you that I never thought I would. It's up to you and what you decide. This is the best I can do."

"What?" was all she could say. _What?_

Erik took a very deep breath.

As Alina calmed down, he lowered himself into his usual seat across from her, wondering if this would be the last time he sits in it. She must have been in his room, he realized – Antoinette's letter was on the table next to her, resting on a dictionary, and next to it was a piece of paper with one sentence written in both English and French.

 _Alina will understand._

 _Tell her,_ the thought floated once again from the back of his head, but it no longer hissed in his ear; it pleaded quietly in Antoinette's gentle voice and so Erik took another deep breath to steady himself – it did nothing – and started talking.

"There is something you need to know about me, Alina, and I'll let you judge it for yourself. I would gladly deceive you until the end of my days and steal away pieces of happiness if you weren't so persistently kind to me all the time. I can't bear to see you waste that kindness blindly on someone who doesn't deserve it."

"What do you mean? What happened?" Alina felt her heartbeat drumming in her ears.

"A lot of things happened, and too many of them were my own fault, even as I tried to tell myself otherwise. I need you to know what I really am.

The reason why I had to escape France was that I... kidnapped a woman. Nearly killed her fiancé, too, and if wasn't for Giry I would not have had the restraint not to kill many more people while I lived in the Opera."

"I... You might need to start again, slower this time. I don't really understand."

Erik had to take another deep breath, wishing his heart would stop beating so frantically and his voice and hands would stop shaking – none of which happened. He couldn't look directly at her, but he could tell by her voice that she did understand. She just didn't want to believe it.

"I'll start from what you already know about me. When Antoinette found me, she couldn't keep me in her apartment forever, so she took me to Opera Garnier. I was around sixteen at the time. The Opera has an immense cellar – five very large floors of it – so I lived there for over a decade. I lived off of food and supplies I could steal from the staff and workers. I couldn't risk being seen, and I was so immensely bored and lonely that I built an entire house for myself in the cellars and learned to – draw, sing, and play every instrument I could get my hands on. I studied, I read, I lived peacefully for the first time in my life. I was afraid people might become curious and try to wander down; my first instinct was to simply kill anyone who might threaten me and my anonymity. It was only Giry's persistent, stubborn arguing which convinced me that I shouldn't act like an animal just because people think I am, because it's easier. She raised me, made me into a… person and in the end, partially for her own sake, I agreed to simply exist as a mirage without bothering anyone. People noticed things missing, and they noticed strange accidents, but they simply said the place was haunted and started blaming it on the Opera Ghost. They weren't really aware I even existed.

One day Giry brought an orphan girl, her daughter's friend, to dance in the ballet. The girl's name was Christine, and I steered clear of her for several years. I was still very much wild at that time. Giry was the only person in the world who knew of my existence, and I was horrified of people, so I stayed in the shadows and lived rather peacefully. But after a while, I felt drawn to her. I needed to talk to someone since Giry was becoming so overwhelmed with her duties she couldn't come very often. The girl seemed lost, alone, and sad, and so was I. One day I spoke to her when she was all alone. I stayed in the shadows because I was still horrified at the thought of revealing myself.

I'll spare you the details. The girl was shy and withdrawn, but she was immensely talented for singing. She had both the voice and the emotion to be a legend, a diva one day. I started teaching her – never meeting her face-to-face – and I'm afraid I hid enough of what I truly am from her to have her believe I was a completely benevolent presence in her life. She wasn't entirely sure I wasn't just a ghost – young choir girls spread silly superstitions – or some man in the shadows, but she was so lonely that she chose to believe everything I said. She trusted me completely, and I chose to disregard my conscience because I had fallen in love with her. Madly and desperately. I ignored everything else in the world for a while."

He noticed Alina wince a little when she heard that last part. _Unfortunately, she is about to wince a lot more._

"The sad truth was that she never loved me back. She may have been obsessed with the image I had so carefully crafted, of a perfect ethereal guardian, but once she learned the truth I became an absolute disappointment – imagine dreaming something like that and learning your dear angel was… a rather insane, malformed man. I can't really bring myself to blame her. She fell in love with someone else – a young handsome nobleman – and I found out about it. Needless to say, I didn't take it well. I'm afraid I'd said some things that made her fear me from then on."

He really didn't want to say this next part, but he knew if he didn't say it now he would never have the strength to do this again. _And I have to say it, because she has to know what she's dealing with, and I have to know I didn't do the same horrifying thing all over again to someone else. Even if someone does the same horrifying thing again to me._

"Since I'm rather talented for music myself, after a good number of lessons and rehearsals I had managed to train both her voice and her confidence, and eventually she got a lead role. I only had to arrange some minor accidents for that to happen, but once she got it, she was absolutely perfect. She became the center of attention practically overnight, and the success made her trust me again, but it also made her much bolder. The next time I saw her she felt the need to take my mask off by surprise to see why on earth I would be hiding my face from her, and the truth, I'm afraid, made her even less inclined to stay with me. She no longer needed me, but I was still delusional that she would somehow magically _want to_ stay with me, and I went from being a benevolent guardian to an absolute menace. We argued, I shouted, I followed her, I manipulated and threatened her, and I accused her of anything I feared she might do. In the end my fears came true. She attempted to escape my reach by running away with her dear sweet noble-boy, which I also found out. So, I kidnapped her. In the middle of an opera, too. It was a massive, unforgivable scandal, and all of Paris rose to drag me out like a beast with torches and pitchforks. I took her to my home and had every intention of keeping her there, when her fiancé – who apparently possessed a lot more courage than I had anticipated – came to rescue her. I managed to capture him, too. I'm not sure how, because I had been slowly going mad over those few months and some things are still blurry. But I captured him alive and decided in my insanity to negotiate his release with her. _That_ part I remember and I won't pretend I have an excuse for it. I offered to let him go only if she stayed with me, otherwise I would kill him."

Erik had to stop again because he'd lost both his voice and his sight. He realized he'd started crying and covered his face with his hands to compose himself for a moment. He still couldn't look at Alina, and decided it would be easier to continue talking like this, with his face in his hands. _Are you an insane beast or a whiny child? Decide already._

"She agreed to stay. I could see at that moment she hated me to her very bones, but she decided to stay with me so I wouldn't kill him, because, you see, she actually loved him that much. She came up to me, and told me she would stay, and kissed me. My head cleared completely when she did it and I realized everything I had done. I couldn't bear to be the monster in that story. I couldn't bear the thought of keeping her there with me and looking at her every day knowing she's trapped, knowing she hates me. So I let them both go. I promised never to contact her again. From what I've read, they're now married, and she's still performing. They ran back up, left me down in the cellar and I narrowly escaped the righteous mob; I hid in Giry's room and for some reason she decided to take me back to her home and offer me another chance. But the good people of Paris were after my head so I had to escape, which is how I met you."

There was a game Erik sometimes played when he couldn't decipher how Alina would feel: he pretended it was someone else instead of him in that situation with her, someone normal. He'd found it often cleared his head of interrupting thoughts and gave him a more balanced, rational view of things; it predicted her behavior better than what he'd normally guess. But this time he dared not even think about how she would react if anyone, he or else, told her the things he'd just told her. He waited silently for her verdict, trying not to think, deciding he'd rather keep his face hidden for a while longer. For the first time in forever, his head was silent. _Maybe ruining everything good in my life is enough for you to finally shut up._

He could hear her getting up from her seat without saying a word. _Is that it?_ It was rather cruel, but maybe rather fitting. Maybe it was less cruel than actually voicing out her opinion of him after hearing everything. _And thank god I can't see her. I might stay like this forever._

He could hear her footsteps getting closer, stopping right next to where he was sitting; he could hear her leaning on the table. He waited, terrified of what would happen next, unable to figure out what she was doing.

He felt her fingers gently tugging on his wrists and recoiled in shock. _What?_

"I'm not touching your mask. Calm down. I just want to see your eyes."

"What are you-" he started to turn the other way, hoping he could maybe find a hole to crawl in.

"No, come on, it's alright. It's just hard to see you like this. I always wanted to do this but I was scared you'd get angry. You're too proud for your own good." She continued, gently tugging on the tips of his fingers. "Every time you're miserable, I just want to reach out and embrace you, but you're so… I never knew how you'd react. Come on. Please."

It made no sense, but he gave in anyway and let her pull his hands away. He kept looking down, but he could sort of make out that she was looking at him, still holding his hands in hers on her lap.

"I'm not going to beat you, or hurt you, or leave you. I just want to talk."

He didn't know what to say.

Neither did Alina, so she just said the first thing that came to mind.

"I don't think you're a monster."

That statement was so painfully untrue that he started sobbing again.

"No, really, you're not. What you did was wrong, and I won't deny that. You've done some bad things. But you're not a monster. You did the right thing in the end." She lifted his chin up with her finger, forcing him to look at her. Her face was… normal. Gentle and warm. It was no different from before, and he could see no signs of disgust or loathing. "People make mistakes, and they sometimes do horrible things they regret, but they're still people. I can understand you were in a horrible situation. I can understand you had no way to know any different. I can understand you'd been treated like a beast your whole life. But what I find the most important thing of all is that you did the right thing when it mattered. Once, but once was enough. And you can be proud of that, even if you're not proud of other things you've done."

"But-" she cut him off abruptly by sitting on his lap and embracing him.

"Be quiet. We'll talk more later, trust me."

Erik stayed silent against his better judgment, and slowly returned her embrace. He slowly fell into a sort of a peaceful trance and forgot everything else for some time. He couldn't tell how long they stayed like that; he may have fallen asleep for some time.

ooo

They indeed had to talk some more later; Alina simply saw no point in discussing some of it while they were both on edge and irrational, but there _were_ some details in the story she found important to understand in order to think about her decision. It was really ironic, she thought, sort of a cruel joke from the universe itself - Alina herself feared being bound and controlled more than anything her entire life. She had spent her life first judging her parents for trying to break her down and keep her tame; then talking to victims of all sorts of tragedy and abuse - and she wasn't new to the notion that people who have been wronged often go on to wrong others; she even had ample sympathy and understanding for those people in most cases. She just thought it kind of a cruel joke that it would happen like this - that she would have to confront her worst fears outside the safety of her professional persona, with the person she felt closest to.

She sat next to him, taking one of his hands in hers. Erik still found it hard to look at her, but less so now, as he clasped her hand lightly.

"If you wanted her to belong to you, why did you help her become famous? Why pursue her dreams and build her confidence if you could just keep her bound and dependent on you?"

He was appalled. "Is that what you think of me? That I want a puppet instead of a person?"

"No, but that's what _you_ think, how you talk about it. But it's not what you did."

"Maybe this line of thinking simply didn't occur to me at the time", he offered bitterly.

"But it would have occurred to you if you wanted it. And yet you helped her sing to the whole world instead of just you. Why? Did you want her to owe you everything, so that you can blackmail her later?" she was looking at him sharply.

"I had nothing to blackmail her with at that point." He didn't really understand this line of questions, but he had already decided he'd tell her everything she wished to know and there was no going back now.

"Why, then? Were you hoping she would owe you and stay with you out of guilt?"

 _That_ was enough to make him angry now. "Alright, maybe I was!" he waved his free hand, raising his voice in annoyance. "Maybe I thought about all those things, and maybe I just wanted to steal her away, no matter what she wanted! But has it occurred to you that maybe, maybe I saw that she _wanted_ it, and, and, and I would have personally given everything to have a chance to actually go into the world and perform, and someone to teach me, and a normal face and normal mind – and I maybe, without hidden motives, wanted to give her things I couldn't give to myself, perhaps just because I actually did love her and wanted to see her happy! Maybe it made _me_ happy to see her fulfill her dreams!"

Alina smiled mischievously. "Yes, that's what I thought. Now, I've read quite a number of stories and that's not really what monsters do, is it?"

 _Was that a trick?_ "I suppose not."

"Not everything you wanted was completely bad then, was it?"

"No, but I still managed to drag her through hell with my best intentions."

"Hmm." She frowned. "That you probably did. You messed it up completely. I'm sorry."

"You don't really have to remind me", he retorted bitterly.

"No, I suppose not. It looks to me like you've realized since then why manipulating and lying to someone you love might be a bad thing. I haven't actually seen you do anything similar since I've known you. You've, in fact, been very kind. And you haven't harmed anybody, like you promised." She smiled. "Now, there's another very important question."

"Ask away." he braced himself for the impact.

"Do you still love Christine?" She was trying to sound carefree and amused, but it was hilariously obvious how much she feared the answer. She'd taken him by surprise again; he did not expect this question at all. He took a second to think.

"I don't think I do. I don't know. I'm angry when I think about it all. And I can't erase what happened." Her face fell into sadness, so he continued quickly. "But… I don't want it anymore. I don't want her. I've made peace with it some time ago, actually, and… truthfully, I met you", he blurted out. He wasn't ready for big confessions, but she deserved to hear something nice at least after all she'd endured so far. "It wasn't a sudden switch. I just wanted to be near you, and gradually stopped thinking about… that. About her."

"Is that it? I'm a nice distraction?" Her eyes were drilling holes in him. _Please, calm down._

"No, absolutely not. But I'd rather tell you sometime later when we're not discussing the… more horrible things."

"Tell me what?" she was only halfway convinced. Erik's nerves, however, were at their very frayed ends, and had been for a while.

"You stubborn woman! I wasn't going to tell you I love you in the middle of this stupid mess, because I wanted to do it right, and pick a better moment, but fine! Have it your way!"

Her eyes widened in shock. "Say that again, please."

"I love you, alright! I said it already!" _I'm not very mature today, am I?_

But neither was she. She just kept looking at him, smiling.

"What is so funny?"

"Sorry", she said, "this is the first time a man has told me he loves me, and I have to say, it's fitting that you say it annoyed and yelling at me. I might have lost another bet with Amelija." She started to laugh. "You silly, blind man. I have loved you for a long time. Maybe I should have been more obvious about it, but I think you're incredible and have thought so since I came to know you."

"I'm confused. Which part of what I just told you is wonderful?"

"None of it. I already told you what I think about it all. But I can accept it, and move on, I think. It's not my place to offer you forgiveness but I can offer you acceptance. You can forgive yourself, of course."

"I don't know. I don't think I should."

"That's fair. It's up to you. I think the way you told me the story is important. I would not still be here if I didn't think you understood your own mistakes." She paused to drill a hole in his skull again. "And I would not be here if I thought you had any intention of trying to do the same to me. I value my freedom very highly, as you may have noticed. It seems that you don't intend to take it away."

"I don't." But he thought it was understandable that she had to check. "If you wish to leave, I won't stop you." _Even if I'm not entirely certain what would be left of me in that case._

"I wasn't planning to." She grinned. "Déjà vu, hah. What I meant is, if we take into account that I have no intention whatsoever to leave you and sincerely want to be with you, which I do – don't look at me like that, just listen – I want you to understand that I still need some freedom. I am very loyal and very faithful, trust me. But aside from that, I want to be able to do and say what I want as I have been doing until now. I want to work, I want to have friends, and I like to have a choice in my own life. I won't try to force my will in anything; I just want us to be able to compromise. I want us to tell each other everything openly, no secrets, no pretenses and no manipulations. And I'd like you to consider telling me things that bother you rather than running away randomly. I want you to try and trust me, because I'll do my best to earn it. And I want to be able to trust you. Can we do that?"

"I'll try." _Honestly, I've never been in this situation, so I don't know._

"Alright. I'll try that too. I've never been in this situation either, but we've been getting along very nicely until now. I think I can trust you." She smiled. "It's a big thing for me, although you may think otherwise."

"Please", he scoffed. "You're manipulative as all hell towards most people. Don't think I haven't noticed, even if _they're_ stupid enough to buy it."

"Oh. Fair." She shrugged.

ooo

One shouldn't spend three days without eating or sleeping, it seemed. Erik could distinctly remember being able to pull that off when he was younger, but… oh well. After his return he had to spend two more days sleeping and eating soup because he was, for all intents and purposes, useless. He was unfocused, emotionally unstable and uncharacteristically clumsy, so in an attempt to just spare everyone the hassle he stayed in bed.

Alina let him sleep without disturbance for the first day, only coming to bring him something to eat and some books – he wasn't sure if she thought he'd actually read them, or she realized how effectively trying to read in this state put him to sleep.

On the second day, she brought some oatmeal for breakfast and lingered on, shifting nervously.

"Is something wrong?" Erik asked, sitting up in the bed.

"I was just wondering. Do you want to be alone?" she asked, looking to the side.

"What do you mean?" He didn't like the question at all.

"I meant right now. Is it alright if I sit next to you?"

"Yes, of course it's alright. Go ahead." He had just woken up, so he was neither anxious nor unfocused. _I might actually be good company, even._

He expected her to pull up the chair from his desk and sit next to the bed, but instead she went around and climbed, slowly and somewhat shyly, on the bed next to him. She pulled her knees to her chest and embraced them with her arms, in a very child-like gesture.

"I missed you while you were gone", she admitted.

Erik wasn't sure what to say.

"I'm sorry I left. I wasn't thinking clearly."

"That's very obvious, yes. I just wanted to make it clear, since I've already made my anger known, that I really did miss you and I'm glad you came back."

 _I love you with all of my heart and I'll never leave you again._ "I won't do that again", he managed.

"That would be very much appreciated. You can trust me, you know. Please try to."

"I do trust you." _I am yours completely. Do what you want with me._

"Good." She smiled. "I trust you, too." She shifted a bit closer to rest her cheek on his shoulder.

Erik wasn't sure how it happened, but at some point he fell asleep and when he woke up he was on his back and she was still there, sleeping softly with her head resting on his chest and her arms wrapped around him. _I apparently do trust her, because I don't think I've ever fallen asleep with someone other than her as much as in the same room, much less in my bed._ The exhaustion may have helped as well. Erik wrapped one arm tightly around her, lightly stroking her hair with the other – she merely sighed in her sleep – and wondered if this may be what the word _serenity_ means.

The news of Erik's return reached his friends quickly – well, Alina went to tell everybody on the same day because she raised half the island up on their feet and now she had to calm them down. He felt guilty about it – he never should have let his anger get the better of him; its effect seemed to be diminishing, and yet, he never quite managed to not mess _something_ up.

Yana came to visit him as soon as he was out of bed, and Erik was thankful it was just her – he felt a pang of guilt when he realized what a scene he had caused, but as he opened the door for her she simply smiled at him without anger or disdain. Yana really was particular about that – he almost felt as if he could one day tell her everything he had told Alina, and she still wouldn't judge him about it; it was unlikely that day would come soon, but the thought filled him with affection nevertheless.

"You made a mess", Yana stated calmly, looking at him.

"I'm sorry", he bowed his head at her. He wasn't sure what else to say.

"I don't know what we did to upset you, but I'm sorry also", she said, slowly pulling him into a gentle hug. She held him for a second while Erik tapped her back awkwardly and then pulled away. "Don't do that again, stupid man, or I'll murder you", she said with the same calm, loving voice as she slid past him and sat at the kitchen table.

Alina made them all tea; after the initial awkwardness, they had somehow slowly started talking about the whole incident quite openly when they realized Erik wouldn't shut off and lose his composure again, and when Erik realized they wouldn't suddenly decide they did hate him after all.

"How did you even hide like that? Where? We searched literally everywhere", Alina asked.

"A magician never reveals his secrets, Alina", Erik smiled. He had always, always been good at hiding; it was a skill he was quite proud of. No-one had ever been able to find him, save from Giry on a few occasions.

"He keeps moving", Yana interrupted, annoyed with his attitude. "He moved all the time between several connected places instead of picking one very hidden place. He was always in a place we searched already. He used times when we were distracted or tired to hide - in plain sight, is that how you say? He picks an obvious place and looks like he belongs there. I think one time he was behind us."

Alina and Erik looked at her in stunned silence. Erik knew very well what she was talking about; he indeed was behind them at one point. The small makeshift search party Alina had gathered horrified him to the bone; he was _not_ ready to be snuffed out by another righteous mob. He had half a mind to leave the island without another word, but some strange masochism made him want to look at her again, to try and decipher what would make her betray him like this. He followed Alina and Yana around until they were alone, from a safe distance where they couldn't see him – only to see Alina break down and cry inconsolably as soon as there was nobody else around. Yana tried to comfort her, but to no avail. He could barely make out what they were saying, but the one sentence he could decipher was _"what if something horrible happened to him?"._ It was at that moment he realized the mistake he'd made; the woman he was running away never to face again was crying at the thought of never seeing him again and it made him so disgusted at himself to be the cause of it that he could hardly bear it; he decided at that moment that he would have to go home. It just took him two more days to gather the courage (and the rain that started pouring on the third day was a compelling incentive to finally do it).

"How did you know that?" Erik managed. Yana never gave a single sign of noticing him.

"It just makes sense. It's what I would do. I don't know how people think it's so hard."

"Are you saying you knew where I was? You could find me?"

"I don't know, I didn't try. It's not hard to guess what you do, but it's still hard to find you. You're fast."

"You didn't try?" Alina says. "But why- it was three days - how could you-"

"He is adult, Alina, and needs to learn to come back alone", Yana cut her off before turning to Erik. "I didn't like how you looked at me before you left- it was scary, so I didn't want to find you until you get back to normal. I thought you will know when you are ready."

Erik didn't really know what to say.

"You came back alone, so that's fine", Yana clarified.

"I'm sorry I scared you", he mumbled back. It seemed he'd have to say that a lot in the following days.

"It's over now", Alina chimed in. It sounded more like a plea than a statement.

END OF CHAPTER 20

 _A/N: my favorite part is when Erik thinks "I'm not very mature today, am I?" implying that he normally is_

1 The phrase „Je suis désolé" (shortened often to "Désolé!") means "I am sorry" in French. The adjective "désolé" can also mean _lonely, abandoned, isolated_ orliterally _desolate_ ; the two words share the same Latin root "solus", alone. While Alina knows the phrase means "I'm sorry", it's uncertain whether she understands enough French to be aware of this fact as the second meaning is used more often in writing than speech. A/N


	21. Language

21\. Language

 _Autumn of 1882, Paris_

"What's your name?" Antoinette asked the crouching figure as they sped through the dark streets quietly. The figure gave no sign of understanding or even hearing her question; it simply continued walking next to her with its limbs shaking slightly under the cloak and weirdly-colored eyes flickering beneath the scarf and hood that wrapped around its entire face and head. The figure moved like its limbs were being properly used for the first time in a long time, such a long time that it forgot what they were for; trembling and walking with quick, twitchy movements underneath the long hooded cloak. Antoinette knew the right and wrong times to push things, so she kept silent until they reached her apartment. She automatically took out her keys, but then changed her mind and turned to the cloaked apparition again before unlocking the door.

Remembering that Meg was already asleep, Antoinette brought her finger to her lips and turned to the hooded figure, signaling to keep quiet.

The figure stared back at her. She sighed a little and tried again, wondering if she and her daughter would both be found dead in the morning.

"This is my apartment. You can stay here. Just… be quiet, I suppose", she said. "My daughter is asleep."

The figure stared at her some more, standing completely still.

"I know you're not deaf", she said, slightly annoyed. "Just tell me if you understand or not, then I'll let you inside."

The figure brought one long, thin, bony finger up to the part of the scarf where its lips probably were.

"Good enough", Antoinette mumbled, unlocking the door. She opened the door and held it, gesturing for the figure to come in. It stood on the doorway for a few moments before slowly stepping inside.

"Make yourself comfortable. I'll get you some tea and something to eat", she said. Taking off her own coat and hat, she put the pot of water on the stove and started searching for something to make for the figure to eat, until she turned around again and saw it still standing in the hallway looking at her intently the whole time.

Antoinette looked at the figure looking back at her, and slowly said, "Make yourself comfortable. That means, you can sit and take your coat off. You're my guest now."

The figure stood in the hallway.

"Please, sit down", she said, pulling out a chair. When it still stood, she walked up to it and tried again.

"Come on", she said, reaching out to gently pull the fabric of the cloak. The figure moved so remarkably fast that she couldn't even see it properly, but it was suddenly two steps away from her.

Antoinette blinked and then slowly raised both her hands in a peaceful gesture. "I'm not going to hurt you. Ever. I swear on my life. I just want you to follow me. Alright?"

The figure stood there, but didn't move further back. Antoinette kept her hands up and gestured at the kitchen, then moved one step backwards, still facing the hooded figure.

Very, very slowly, the figure took one step forward. Antoinette's face spread into a sincere smile, and the figure blinked in surprise.

"Very good. One more?" she took another step back, and the figure stepped forward again, much quicker this time.

Antoinette walked slowly backwards until she reached the table, then pulled out a chair and moved a few steps away from it. She turned her back to the table to get out the already-boiling pot of tea away from the stove. When she turned back around, the figure was sitting in the chair still wrapped in cloak and scarf, looking at her intently.

"You can take off the cloak", she made a movement like she was pulling down a hood and shrugging off her coat. The bright yellow eyes looked at her for a moment, and then the figure pulled down the hood and wriggled out of the cloak, revealing a mass of long, tangled, dirty black hair and something that may have been a shirt and pair of trousers at some point, but was now quite literally rags.

"...and the scarf", she pointed at the figure's face and neck. "So you can eat."

For the first time, the figure made a gesture that may have been an attempt to communicate - it shook its head lightly, looking at her.

"You'll have to, sooner or later. You can't eat through it", she said gently.

The figure shook its head again.

"Would you rather starve than take it off?" she asked slowly, keeping her voice equally gentle.

The figure nodded.

"Huh." that was, though understandable, undeniably problematic. Antoinette already shed the tears she was going to shed today as she was preparing to go break into a cage, and now she only felt calm determination.

"If I get you something else to cover your face with, so you can eat, would that help?" she asked.

The figure made no movement.

Antoinette sighed. She had plenty of stage props she sometimes brought home to fix; she could maybe find a mask or something among them - maybe that would appease the ghostly figure. It seemed less uneasy already, no longer staring at her; but what upset her was that its eyes were now darting back and forth across the room, fixating on some invisible points as if they noticed something there that nobody else could see. She put a plate of baked potatoes she had left over from lunch on the table, as well as the tea she made, and excused herself to go look for something that would help the situation.

She found a plain white leather mask - basic mask that she used to have tons of; they were often used in theatre and ballet as they were versatile and could be customised for many different roles. She cut a hole where a person's jaw and mouth would be so that the ghost could eat without taking it off, and went back to the kitchen.

When Antoinette came back, the figure still sat in the chair unmovingly, but the plate of potatoes was completely empty, as well as the cup of tea.

"Ah", she laughed. "You were hungry, after all?"

The ghost stared at her, flinching slightly at the sudden sound of her laughter.

"Here you go", she put the mask on the table in front of the ghost. "Would this help?"

The ghost blinked once, then reached for the mask to look at it.

"You can put it on."

The ghost had absolutely no intention of taking the scarf off.

"Alright, I'll leave so you can do it in peace", she pointed at the clock on the wall. "I'll come back in five minutes. When this arrow is here", she said as she showed it on the clock and left. She waited in the hallway for exactly five minutes, and when she came back, the scarf was gone from the ghost's face, replaced by a mask.

The ghost looked decidedly less ghostly now. It even resembled an emaciated, badly-scarred teenage boy.

"Hello", she smiled at him again, and his eyes widened in surprise again as she did.

"I don't think I've introduced myself", she continued. "My name is Antoinette. You can stay with me for a while if you want to. You'll be my guest, I'll give you more food and clothes and I'll bandage these", she pointed at his wrists and forearms, "because they look like they hurt. Do you want to? Stay here with me?"

The boy looked at her, not sure what to respond. Yes, he wanted desperately to be somewhere where he'd get food and smiles instead of beatings and shouting, but the entire situation seemed so ridiculously wonderful that he wasn't entirely sure he hadn't lost his mind and simply imagined this whole evening.

If that was the case, seeing as he had already lost his sanity, he had hardly anything left to lose. That was a compelling argument, and the boy nodded at the smiling woman once.

"Alright. It might be a good idea for you to take a bath first, and then we'll take a look at those. Now, you don't have to tell me right now, but I imagine you do have a name. Will you tell me, one day? When you're ready?"

The boy looked back at her, thinking. He did in fact have a name once, long ago, he was quite sure of that. He would probably be able to recall what that name was, if he thought hard enough; however, along with that memory came other memories he truly did not wish to resurface. At least not today. He was fairly certain, somewhere in the back of his head, that they would come back on their own eventually no matter what he did or wanted.

He nodded once more, and she smiled again, softly, and almost reached out to pat his back before she remembered he might not react too well to that. The boy, still lost in thought, didn't notice her arm moving slightly; he suddenly had a fairly disturbing realization that in this quiet, peaceful, wonderfully non-threatening house, the screaming inside his own head suddenly sounded much louder in comparison than before.

ooo

 _Summer of 1876, Paris_

The little girl standing in the middle of the sidewalk cried so loudly that it was impossible nobody heard her - everybody definitely heard her, but until Antoinette stopped dead in her tracks upon passing her and turned around, nobody really did anything.

The girl was about eight years old, dressed in a neat yellow dress with her dark hair braided down her back. Her eyes, now puffy and red, were also dark, and her skin had an olive tint to it that made Antoinette think she might not be French.

"Hey, hey, dear", she called. "What's wrong?"

The girl looked at her with confusion - no, she was probably not French, as she didn't seem to understand a word of what Antoinette just said. Antoinette wasn't going to give up so easily, so she kneeled down in front of the girl and looked into her eyes.

"Uh", Antoinette tried again, struggling to remember what little Italian she picked up on her honeymoon long ago. "What's your name?"

The girl still stared at her miserably for a moment until she finally lost her patience. She burst into a torrent of words quickly and loudly, gesticulating in annoyed desperation. Antoinette only understood two things: first, it was a language she had never heard before; and second, that language had far too many consonants for her taste.

"Alright, alright, calm down", she said in French again, holding her hands up and patting the girl on her arm. "Slow down. We'll think of something." The girl again didn't understand a word, but she understood her tone and she calmed down, wiping her tears and waiting for Antoinette to do something.

Antoinette knew some people who spoke several languages - the closest of those would be the receptionist at her workplace. She was on her way to work anyway; the Opera was just around the corner and Antoinette tried to think of a good way to lead the girl there without panicking her any further. She stood up, pointing at the corner.

"We need to go there", she said, looking at the girl and taking her hand. The girl let her, looking into her eyes intently. "They'll help us." The girl nodded, following her obediently into the Opera.

"Jean, I need your help", Antoinette called as she walked in with the girl. Jean raised his eyebrows, but simply nodded at her. Antoinette was a fairly young woman, but something about her made people not question what she told them to do.

"Yes, madame Giry?"

"This girl is lost, but she doesn't speak French. I need you to try and figure out how we can talk to her and find her parents", she said, pointing at the girl who looked at Jean curiously. Jean blinked and looked back at her, and the girl waved, smiling.

"Uh, alright", he said. "She looks Italian to me."

"She's not", Antoinette puffed. "I tried."

"Spanish, maybe?" Jean looked at the girl and asked in Spanish, "¿Dónde están tus padres?"

The girl looked at him like he was a complete idiot.

"Obviously not", Jean puffed. "I don't know _all_ the languages, Madame. What do you want me to do?"

"Just try the ones you do", Antoinette asked.

"Uh", Jean tried again. "Sprichst du Deutsch?"

"Ein bisschen", the girl replied without missing a beat.

"Uh-huh", Antoinette mumbled. "I would not have thought to try that in a million years."

"Wie heißt du?" Jean asked.

"Ich bin Alina", the girl replied politely. "Alina Boričević. Schön Sie zu treffen. Können Sie bitte mir helfen, meine Eltern zu finden?"

"Her name is Alina something", Jean told Antoinette. "She's asking if we can help her find her parents. Very politely, I might add."

"Yes, that's why I brought her here", Antoinette said. Jean repeated that to the girl, and she nodded.

"Ask her where she saw them last", Antoinette said. Jean repeated that to the girl, and she sighed in obvious annoyance.

"Ich weiß es nicht. Hier sieht alles gleich aus."

"She said she doesn't know. Everything looks the same here", Jean said.

"Ask her where she's from, then", Antoinette asked, and Jean repeated it to the girl obediently.

"Zagreb", she beamed up. "Aus Kroatien, in der Österreichisch-Ungarischen Monarchie."

"One of those backyard provinces in the Austrian Empire", Jean said. "That explains it, I suppose."

"And why is she here?"

After a few more minutes of strained communication, Jean managed to get from the girl the information Antoinette needed: she was here on vacation with her parents, they started fighting and she got sick of them so she wandered a few feet away from them, but then got completely lost in the crowd until Antoinette found her.

"Sie werden mich töten! Vielleicht ließen sie ohne mich!" the girl exclaimed, growing panicked again. Jean repeated to Antoinette, "She says they'll kill her. Also, she's worried they might have left without her."

"They will do no such thing. There is no need to panic", she told the girl, and Jean translated it. "Jean, give me a pencil and some paper, can you?" he took the pencil and paper from his desk and passed them to Antoinette, who sat the girl on a nearby bench and offered them to her. The girl held the pencil and paper in her hand, and something about it seemed a little off to Antoinette, but she ignored it for now.

"Jean, tell her to draw the hotel she's staying at and the writing on the front. She can draw and write, right?"

Jean asked the girl, and she grimaced something in annoyance, but nodded nevertheless and started drawing, leaning her paper on the bench. Her hand was incredibly clumsy as she drew and even clumsier as she wrote the name of the hotel down, and when she showed it to Antoinette, she couldn't discern a single letter.

"I can't read this", she said to Jean. "Is it in French even?"

Jean repeated it to the girl, who nodded and threw her hands up angrily, forgetting she was still holding the pencil in her right hand. As she threw her hand up, the pencil flew over into the air and the girl panicked and reached out, catching the pencil mid-air with a quick, nimble movement of her left hand. She looked at them with slight embarrassment as if she was expecting to be scolded, and mumbled something close to an apology.

"Ask her to try again", Antoinette told Jean. He translated it for the girl, and she sighed, taking the pencil back into her right hand and turning to the paper.

In a moment of inspiration, Antoinette plucked the pencil from the girl's right hand and placed it into her left. The girl looked at her curiously, but the pencil sat much less clumsily in her left hand, and she nodded.

"Try again", Antoinette said. The girl nodded one more time and started again, working much more quickly than before. When she was finished, Antoinette saw that the drawing was actually quite decent for the girl's age - and the writing of the hotel's name and address on the bottom was, in fact, completely discernible.

"Hah! Very good", she smiled widely at the girl. Alina, smart enough to understand compliments in every language, grinned excitedly back at her.

"Let's go, then", Antoinette stood up, taking the girl by the hand and nodding to Jean.

"Thank you, Jean", she said. "Tell the girls I'll be a little late, there's an emergency. I won't take long."

"Yes, Madame", he replied mischievously, leading them politely out the door.

The girl rambled on in German the whole way to the hotel, relieved now that she had someone to help her; Antoinette was amazed by how much the girl could disregard the fact she couldn't understand her. After a while, she realized she was actually fairly interested in what the girl had to say, so she tried again in the language she sort of spoke that she thought was closest to German she could get.

"You are Alina?" she asked in English.

Alina nodded at her. She did know a few words of English - her parents tried to prepare her for studying abroad from a young age, and of all the languages they tried to teach her, English had only recently occured to them - but to her it seemed the easiest. She progressed much more quickly than she did with German, even though she started German when she was barely five.

"I am Antoinette Giry", Antoinette said.

"Teta Giry", Alina smiled at her.

"Close enough", Antoinette winked. "What did you say before?"

"I saw nine cats on this street", Alina pointed. "Are they someone's?"

"I don't know", Antoinette laughed.

"Can I take them home?"

"You should ask your parents", she replied, not eager to upset someone's domestic peace.

"They'll say no. That's why I asked you", Alina grinned at her.

Antoinette burst into surprised laughter before she could stop herself, as Alina took out a cookie from her pocket and threw it in front of the nearest cat who looked at it with utter disdain.

END OF CHAPTER 21


	22. Getting used to it

Winter of 1882, Paris

The boy spent the first month avoiding Antoinette as much as possible. He actually didn't seem to avoid _her_ so much as desperately try to find a way to be alone. She spent every free moment she had with him, trying to get him to talk, trying to get to know him, trying to make him eat more than once a day and so on. He obeyed whatever she told him without a word, but refused to answer any questions. In fact, after she spent more than an hour at a time around him, he seemed to space out completely and stop listening to her, only coming back to his senses from time to time if she made a sudden noise or movement.

After a while, Antoinette gave up. The boy was incredibly hard to be around, to be honest. He never displayed any kind of emotion aside from fear, never talked and rarely responded to the outside world and Antoinette was, quite understandably, at her wits' end already. She came to see him in his room as soon as Meg was asleep every day - weirdly convenient, he seemed to be naturally leaning toward being awake later in the evening and sleeping through most of the day - but after saying a few words and asking a few questions, she would simply go about her business, cooking or cleaning, whatever she needed to do for the day. She went to work and when she came back she'd visit him again, talking some more and letting him be when he didn't answer.

After a week of that, the boy was still silent. However, he seemed to listen to her words more attentively, and Antoinette wasn't sure if he was growing bored of being alone or if he was simply getting used to her.

In any case, one day as she left his room and went into the kitchen, she turned around thinking of what she had to do only to notice him standing in the doorway.

"Oh, I didn't hear you", she let out a surprised laugh, and he tensed slightly.

"Do you need anything?" she asked gently. The boy shook his head. He was starting to feel stupid, considering if he should maybe go back to his room and stop bothering her.

Antoinette smiled slightly, realizing what was going on. "Would you like to sit down?"

The boy didn't answer, he just kept staring at her with piercing yellow eyes beneath the mask. It was hard to tell what he was thinking at any given moment, and the mask didn't help. Neither did the silence. Neither did the staring, to be honest - for someone who grew agitated whenever she looked at him for too long, he certainly didn't have a problem with staring at others (aside from whenever she tried to talk to him, in which cases he suddenly looked everywhere else). She would have to talk to him about it someday.

Antoinette pulled out the chair closest to the door, and turned around to start cutting vegetables for tomorrow's lunch. When she looked again, the boy was sitting on the chair, looking at the knife in her hand with slight unease.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked, smiling at him. He shook his head, still staring at the knife. Antoinette saw the fear in his eyes, and wondered what to do. It wouldn't be very practical to just dump whole onions into the stew so she wouldn't upset him, but she really wanted to find some way to make him less tense.

"I'm making some stew for tomorrow. Would you help me?" she asked.

Much to her surprise, the boy nodded for the first time that week.

"Alright, then", she looked around. She'd have to be smart about this. The boy's arms and hands still lacked the strength and precision that a normal person would have - one month with her would not make up for years of malnutrition and abuse, and so his limbs were still weak and shaky. Cutting things was not a very good idea.

"Here. Clean these peas", she said, handing him a paper bag full of green beans and a bowl.

The boy looked at the bowl, then at her.

"Like this", she split the bean open, pushing the peas out with her finger and dropping them into the bowl.

The boy reached out and grabbed another bean, repeating what she did.

"Alright, you got it", she smiled. He fumbled a little bit, then got to work; he always responded very strangely after she smiled or praised him. Antoinette turned around and kept working, humming something to herself. As she worked, she relaxed and forgot about him, lost in thought, until she heard a loud crash behind her.

Antoinette turned around to find the boy staring at her with alarm, having stood up to hand her the bowl, and the aforementioned bowl broken on the floor with peas scattered everywhere.

The boy blinked once, asking himself if this was _really_ how his entire life was going to go. It was such a simple task, mind-numbingly simple, and he managed to mess it up after it was already done. He didn't expect the woman to understand that his hands were too shaky to hold a porcelain bowl full of peas, and readied himself for the blow.

Antoinette looked at the boy, as visible panic passed through his eyes for a moment before they closed. He started slowly stepping back and covered his ears with his hands.

"Uh", she started, unsure what in the world was going on. "Are you alright? Did you cut yourself?"

The boy walked back until his back met the wall and stood there, eyes and ears closed, waiting. It was better to get it over with as quickly as possible.

Antoinette stared at the boy in confusion, unsure what to do. Clearly, he was expecting her to do something terrible to him now - _for breaking a bowl? What kind of insanity has this kid been through?_ \- and she felt a sudden surge of some protective motherly instinct. Her first impulse was to go to him, pat him and reassure him that nothing bad would happen to him. But seeing as how horrified he seemed with his eyes tightly shut and his ears covered, he might not react too well to that.

Trying to think of something to do, Antoinette slowly kneeled down and started picking up broken pieces of the bowl. It was unsalvageable, unfortunately. As for the peas, the floor wasn't dirty, so after she picks them up, washes and cooks them, they should be fine.

Wondering why this was taking so long, the boy slowly peaked through one of his eyes. He saw Antoinette on the floor, picking up bits of porcelain with absolutely no anger in her movements as she did it, and taken aback by surprise he opened his eyes and lowered his hands.

Antoinette saw the movement at the corner of her eye and turned her head to him.

"It's alright, honey. It was an accident. Come here and help me pick it up", she said mildly.

That could be a trick, he thought. It made no sense for her to be so alright with that. The boy stood still, looking at her.

"Alright, then, you can also stay there", she mumbled. She wondered if any of her efforts will ever work on this boy, of it he would keep silently refusing all of her attempts to treat him like a human being. The whole situation had been grating on her nerves for the past month; she constantly lived in fear that she was doing something wrong to him, constantly doubted herself, constantly wondered if any of this was even… why was she doing all this? Was she really trying to help him, was she really so sure she _could,_ or was it her own hubris that made her think she could right all of the world's wrongs by herself? This entire situation left her with a lot less energy for her work and even her daughter, and for what?

A single tear rolled out of Antoinette's eye as she stood up with the porcelain shards in her hands and threw them into the trash. She didn't really notice it - Antoinette rarely cried, never in front of others; and lost in thought she forgot to keep up her tightly-wound composure. To be fair, she normally never doubted herself either.

Like something suddenly possessed him, the boy jolted from his place and hurried to her, stopping one step from her. He had no idea how to correct this; her tears were so much more terrifying than any punishment he could have imagined, even if he had no idea why. If he could have broken his own damn self instead of the bowl he would have done it; unfortunately, that would not fix the stupid thing and he could not think of a single thing that would fix it. He stood in front of Antoinette, so agitated that he nearly jumped out of his skin, pulling on the hair of his temples and nervously pacing about. He needed to express something he had no words for.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Antoinette asked slowly.

The boy nodded, his eyes darting with panic again. He pointed at Antoinette's cheek, then opened his mouth, closed it again and shook his head. Antoinette brought her hand to her cheek, wiped off the tear in surprise and looked at him.

"I was… crying? You're telling me not to cry?"

The boy nodded, then shrugged. Something like that, he supposed.

"It's upsetting you that I'm crying?" she asked, suddenly forgetting all of her doubts from before.

He nodded.

"Is it because you think it's your fault?" she asked.

The boy thought about it. The most obvious answer was _yes,_ because he thought it was definitely his fault; but he was fairly certain he would have been upset even if it wasn't his fault, for reasons he didn't understand.

She didn't need to know that. The simple answer would suffice. He nodded again.

"It's not your fault", she said, looking into his eyes. "It was an accident. It wasn't on purpose. Do you understand that?"

Yes, he did understand that, but wasn't counting on _her_ understanding it. It always seemed to him nobody else understood the difference between accident and deliberate if he happened to anger them. This was refreshing.

He nodded again.

"I'm not crying about the stupid bowl anyway, to be honest", she shrugged. "I'm sad because I think you might be miserable here, and I don't know what to do. I only wanted to help you. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. You have to tell me", she said.

He looked at her in confusion. Yes, he was miserable here, but what difference did it make _where_ he was miserable? This was by far the most peaceful place he was ever miserable in; he had no desire to leave.

That was kind of hard to communicate with nods, he realized and shrugged.

After a second, he suddenly realized she might think it was _her_ that was making him miserable, and that thought was too unbearable to be left with just a shrug.

"It's not your fault", he whispered.

Antoinette gaped. If she was still holding the pieces, she would have dropped them.

"What?" She managed.

He looked at her in annoyance. Did she want him to repeat it? Why? What could he have possibly done wrong _now?_ Was it necessary for her to stare at him like that? He took a slow step backwards.

"Y… you can speak", she said, coming to her senses. She looked around for a moment, breaking eye contact.

He sighed. Was that going to be a problem?

"I'm… I'm so glad", she let out a single relieved laugh and beamed a smile at him so wide that he thought the room suddenly started shining.

He nodded.

"Well. Could you say something else?" She asked.

He narrowed his eyes at her. Was this about something specific, or was she just curious to see how many words the beast knew?

"Your name. Can you tell me your name?" She asked carefully.

He thought about it. There was a good reason why he didn't want to do it, but he couldn't remember it right now, with her smiling at him so kindly.

"Erik", he said quietly. It sounded so strange, saying it for the first time after nearly a decade. It didn't feel real.

"Erik. That's lovely", she said, bringing her fingers up to her still-smiling lips.

Well, now it did sound a lot nicer than before.

"Well, Erik, can you tell me", she gestured around, "- is there anything I can do to make this house more comfortable for you?"

He shrugged. He didn't really know if there was anything, and if there was, if he could even ask for it. Frankly, he never expected any of this to happen. When she came to him that night, his only hope was that someone merciful enough had finally arrived to kill him; _living_ after that point was something he was entirely unprepared for and only now getting used to.

"Alright, but if you think of anything, tell me", she said. "let's pick up these peas and finish making the stew, shall we?"

Erik obediently moved across the room, kneeled down and started gathering the peas in his hands, putting them in another bowl Antoinette placed next to him. It didn't escape him how strange it was that she didn't find his hands too unclean to touch her food. He, personally, still thought he could see the filth under his skin even after rubbing his entire body raw in the bath every day.

ooo

After that day, Erik switched from avoiding Antoinette to silently following her wherever she went, and as she asked him to help with various chores, he silently did whatever she told him to. Distracted with the easy tasks she gave him, he occasionally even found himself answering her questions.

"How old are you?" She asked him one day as she taught him how to tie various knots and braids - some of them she used on her ballet costumes, and some were taught to her by her late husband and his military friends. She had no idea why she was teaching him that, but he seemed to like doing things with his hands - and they slowly became more nimble than before, even as his strength progressed very slowly.

"I don't know", he admitted as he struggled with the piece of string. He felt stupid trying to knot it. He understood from the first time she showed him how he should do it, it was just his goddamn hands that wouldn't work at all and it was incredibly frustrating. _I can do all these things in my head, please believe me._ He wished he could say that, but he found it even harder to say the things he wanted to say. Answering direct questions was one thing, but speaking of his own accord was entirely different and tremendously hard. As soon as he said a few words, he'd get so afraid he couldn't go on and so he'd leave the sentence unfinished, however weird it sounded, and withdrew into himself. He might as well have had a brick wall sealing his mouth.

He would not have bothered with any of this nonsense if she wasn't smiling so nicely at him all the time, praising him whenever he did or answered something she asked.

"What do you mean?" Antoinette asked, turning to him. "How long were you in that cage?"

 _That_ was not something he wanted to think about. He put his hands down and looked at her.

"Alright, you don't have to answer", she said. Something in his eyes made her afraid to ask any further, and she looked away.

"I think I'm sixteen", he offered.

"Oh. I thought you were younger", she blurted out.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

 _Because you act like a particularly shy eight-year-old,_ she wanted to say but stopped herself in time. "I… don't know. I'm not good at guessing people's age, I suppose."

"I'm not people", he replied matter-of-factly.

"Huh?" she blinked. "What are you, then?"

"I don't know", he replied. He'd never seen anything like him at all, and had no name for what he was. Others did have many names for it, but he kept stupidly hoping there would be some _other_ name, some that people wouldn't hiss and spit at him.

"Who said that?" Antoinette asked sharply, accidentally slipping into the tone she used when she worked. It wasn't a particularly angry tone, just strict and commanding, but he still winced and turned to look at her. "No, actually, it doesn't matter. What does matter is that it's nonsense. You're a person. A boy. You're Erik. Nothing else."

Now, Erik was a name his mother did hiss at him quite a lot back then, which was why he was so reluctant to give it to Antoinette. And she, either unrealistically stupid or unrealistically kind, didn't seem to notice the obviously disgusting things about him and never yelled or hissed at him - and so, spoken in her voice the name became something else.

If she did think he was a person, a boy - that was impossible, nonsensical, completely unbelievable - that meant that not only did she not notice the goddamn horror on his head or, for that matter, all over his body, but in these weeks they've spent together she obviously didn't notice the rot growing all over his insides. She didn't know about the black roots and vines that had taken hold in every corner of his mind. Maybe she had no way of knowing unless he told her, but something inside him felt that it was really obvious.

It would be really unbearable to watch once she realized the truth.

Overwhelmed by that thought, he suddenly felt the need to hide. He stood up soundlessly and left the room, then opened the large closet in the hallway and locked himself inside.

A few hours later, he was distraught from his racing thoughts by a light knock on the closet door. He felt as if someone pulled him straight from hell - an endless circle of repeating the screaming and hissing of terrible things in his head - and slammed him back onto Earth.

"Erik, can you unlock the door?" he heard a quiet, pleading voice from outside.

Antoinette waited a few more seconds, then added, "I made you some cookies. Whatever I said that upset you, I'm sorry. We don't have to talk about it. Just come outside."

He slowly brought himself to his feet, needles pricking down his legs, and unlocked the door. He peeked through it a little to see if she was angry.

She didn't seem to be.

"It's not your fault", he said quietly through the tiny gap.

"Ah", Antoinette sighed. "I can understand that, but I can't understand what it is that upsets you sometimes. And I'd like to understand, eventually, even if you don't want to tell me today."

"Why?" he asked.

"So I can make you happier", she offered.

"Why?" _and how on Earth would that even be possible?_

"Because I want to see you happy?" she was growing confused.

"Why?" he asked again.

"Uh", she wasn't too sure about the answer to that. It wasn't something she often consciously thought about; why for God's sake would she need a reason to want to make somebody happy? She had spent her entire life fixing things that were broken and handling everything and everybody - it was what made her progress to the head of the ballet corpus so quickly; it was second nature to her and nobody until now, to be honest, really dared to ask her _why_ she felt the need to right every single wrong around her and straighten every tilted painting.

"I care about you", she finally managed, after thinking for a bit.

"Why?" he pleaded.

"I don't know", she said truthfully. "I saw you chained in a cage, and I brought you home, and now you're my boy. I didn't really think about it. I just feel that way."

"I'm not a boy", he whispered. "I am disease."

"Don't say that about yourself", she snapped again into that commanding tone she used when she was working. He shut up and withdrew further back into the closet, looking at her warily.

"I don't care how many things you can tell me that are wrong with you", she continued, "I already made you cookies, and you can't change my mind."

"Many", his voice cracked. "Many things." his vision was getting strangely blurry.

"I don't care", she repeated. "I've decided."

That didn't make it any easier. Erik crumpled back onto the closet floor as his limbs gave out, suddenly realizing he was crying. He desperately tried to stop it, but the more he tried, the more sobs shook his shoulders, more tears wet the cheeks of his mask. He buried his head in his hands, wishing he could just disappear.

Antoinette had not dared to touch him or get too close to him ever since he arrived aside from changing the bandages on his wrists, worried that it would scare him off; but this was too much even for her. She slowly opened the closet door and stood in front of the figure crying on the floor. Kneeling down on the floor, she reached out with one hand to pat his shoulder.

He shot back immediately trying to withdraw, but had nowhere to go in the cramped space.

Antoinette persisted, scooting over to sit next to him and spreading her arms wide. He didn't seem to understand what she meant by it, so she slowly took his arm again and nudged him towards her. He was terrified, but didn't protest, and before he knew it he was crying with his head leaning on her shoulder and her arms gently embracing him.

 _That_ also didn't make it any easier to stop, as much as he tried. The feel of her warm arms around his body, after the initial urge to claw at his skin, quieted down the screaming and the black spots in his vision. But as the rot recoiled back into some corner of his mind unknown even to him, it gave way to so much sorrow at once he thought he might burst. It was a different kind of sorrow, a hot, searing, _living_ flash in his stomach instead of the constant heavy rock over his heart and numbing thud in his head he felt for the past decade. And so stopping was impossible.

"It's alright, dear", she said, stroking his back. "Just cry. We're not in a hurry."

ooo

After that, Erik spent a few days in his room in embarrassed silence, but once he came out Antoinette noticed a significant change in his behavior. For one, he was much more likely to speak out of his own accord and not just in response to direct questions. Secondly, he kept not only following her around the house, but also waited in anticipation for her to come back from work. He always looked relieved every time she arrived home with her daughter (whom she took care to always leave with a friend or someone at the opera who could take care of her, so he could have a few hours of privacy), as if he was afraid she'd suddenly disappear and leave him alone in the house. As soon as Meg was out of sight, he'd come to seek her out and kept following her until she went to bed.

"What do you normally do when you're alone?" she asked him after a few days of that.

He shrugged. _Panic, usually._

"You can make yourself comfortable here", she waved around. "If you're hungry, make yourself a meal, you don't have to wait for me. If you're bored, feel free to find anything to occupy yourself with. You can take my books. Can you read?" she asked carefully.

"Yes", he said. "I read some of your books." He wasn't sure if he should admit it earlier from fear that she'd get angry at him for touching her bookshelves, but now that _she_ offered it, he felt compelled to prove himself to her. There weren't many other things he could do, after all.

"Oh, very good", she said, slightly impressed. "And write?"

"I know how", he sighed. "Not sure if I can. My hands don't listen."

"Ah, yes", she frowned. "Are they improving at least?"

"A little", he admitted. "But too slow."

"As long as you practice, they'll improve", she assured him. "It'll be fine. Two months ago you could barely button your shirt, and here you are."

 _Here_ wasn't particularly far, Erik thought in frustration. Yes, he could button things now, and he could tie some knots and do simple tasks, but it was still on the level of a child. He spent hours every day practicing when he was alone; he could not stand the thought that he might be trapped in this weak body and these clumsy hands now that he actually had a chance to live. He would have to make them goddamn work, or he would die trying.

"I know it seems impossible now", she continued. "But trust me. I'm a dancer, I told you that. I remember being young and looking at adult ballerinas thinking I could never, ever do these things they do. And here I am. It's all a matter of time and persistence", she said. "We're having a performance soon, my students are dancing, and I wish you could see it. I think you'd like it. Some of these girls were absolutely terrible when they first arrived, and now they're performing on stage", she added proudly.

"Hm", he said.

Antoinette suddenly had an idea. "Would you like me to take you? To see it?"

He looked at her in alarm. "Where?"

"To the Opera, where I work."

He shook his head, panicking visibly. "No, no, no. No."

"Would you rather be cooped up in this room all your life?" she raised her eyebrows.

"Yes." well, unless she wanted to kick him out, but he wasn't going to be the one to bring that possibility up.

"Understandable", she admitted. "But I could sneak you in unnoticed. Nobody will harm you as long as you're with me", she said, and realized in that moment it was true; she would fight tooth and claw if somebody threatened him. Her icy gray eyes had a look he hadn't seen before, and he realized he sort of believed her. She was terrifying.

"Hm", he said. It wasn't a _yes,_ but it wasn't a _no_ either, and Antoinette noticed it.

"Alright, well, that might be too much for a start", she said. "In any case, I don't like that you're constantly trapped here. We should go out and take a walk sometime", she offered.

"A walk?"

"Just to the end of the street and back." she thought some more. "I can give you a scarf and cloak so you can bundle up. Would that make it easier?"

"Uh." a little easier, yes, but still horrifying. "But after dark."

"Certainly. But don't you miss sunlight?"

To miss sunlight he would first need a chance to get accustomed to it, which he never had until now. Seeing it through his window was weird enough already. "No."

"Alright then, that's what we'll do", she smiled. Even as she was smiling at him warmly, he had a feeling it was not exactly up to debate whether he would do it or not.

And so, three days later, after some talking and coercing and bribing, Antoinette gave Erik a thick scarf and cloak and waited. He pulled it on remarkably slowly, wrapping the scarf around his entire head, then taking it off to secure the mask again, then wrapped it around his head one more time.

"Whose scarf is this?" he asked. Antoinette was willing to bet her right hand he didn't give a damn about the scarf or who it belonged to and was only trying to stall her, but she answered anyway.

"It was my husband's. Most of the clothes I gave you were his." Which was not ideal - her late husband was fairly muscular, broad-shouldered and a little shorter than Erik, so the clothes required a lot of alteration, and they still hung from his shoulders slightly. It was impossible to account for his thinness- even as he would slowly start filling out to a semi-normal weight.

He stopped. "You're married?" of course, obviously, she had a kid. But how come he never saw anyone else at the house? Would the man kick him out when he came back?

"I was. He died", she said matter-of-factly. "A few years ago."

"Oh." he didn't really know what to say.

"It's fine", she said. Her tone seemed to Erik uncharacteristically flat and emotionless.

"Why did you give me his clothes?"

"He certainly has no more use for them", she replied, a bit annoyed. "And you had nothing. He always helped people who had nothing."

Erik looked at the clothes on his body, then at her again.

"Do you think his ghost is still in them?" he blurted out before realizing he said it out loud. It was definitely not a normal thing to say, he knew that.

"Ghosts don't exist", she said, blinking at him in surprise. "Don't worry."

"Uh." he thought about it. "I'm not worried. He doesn't sound mean. If his ghost is still in them, I'll take care of him for you." he nodded at her. He had no idea what else to say; he had never been in a conversation like this, but he desperately wanted to say something to make her feel better.

Antoinette didn't expect that at all. She swallowed back and replied politely,

"Thank you, dear. I'm sure you will."

It took him about an hour of delaying to finally exit the house.

"I forgot something", he announced as he stepped over the threshold for the twentieth time.

Antoinette silently took a piece of string out of her pocket and handed it to him. Ever since she taught him how to tie knots and braids, he often carried a piece of string with him that he played with whenever he was anxious or upset. It calmed him down remarkably well to do something with his hands, and Antoinette planned it in advance as she thought about their little adventure.

Erik silently took the string - he had one already in his pocket, but he wasn't about to admit his bluff - and stepped outside, pulling the hood of his cloak over his already masked, scarf-wrapped face.

As they exited the house into the dark moonlit street, Antoinette noticed he started trembling slightly and decided to strike a conversation to get his mind off of things. She noticed him tying and untying the same knot with his hands as he walked.

"Do you really believe in ghosts?" she asked.

"Uh", he said. He really shouldn't tell her, he told himself. It would be a bad idea to tell her. A horrible idea. She already knew he was disfigured, strange and barely functional; would it really help if she also knew he was insane? Definitely not. He had no business telling her, it would be incredibly stupid, and why would she even care to hear something nasty like that anyway -

"I don't know what else they are", he said.

"They?" she asked. "Who?"

"The, uh", he fumbled. "Nothing."

"It's alright, sweetie", she said and kept walking. She kept silent for a few more minutes until he finally burst.

"You can't see them", he rambled, "but I can. I can hear them too. I don't think they're real. Maybe they're ghosts, maybe some apparitions. I think I might be mad."

"Uh", she shook her head, unsure what to say. "Are there any here now?"

"Not visible. But I can hear them."

"What are they saying?"

He kept silent for a moment before replying quietly, "I don't want to repeat it."

"Ah. I'm sorry", she said. "You don't have to."

"It's not really important", he said. "They mostly annoy me. They never have anything useful to say."

"Is that why you're sometimes upset out of nowhere?" she asked carefully.

He kept silent for another moment. "Sometimes. Sometimes it's other reasons. But yes. They get too loud and I just want to be in peace, but I can't. And I can't hear anything else."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked.

"I don't know." he did know. She could, for example, hug him like she did that day in the closet, and hold him and talk to him quietly until they shut up. But he would rather die than ask that of her. He might _actually_ die if he asked and she refused.

He suddenly realized they had reached the end of the street.

"We did it", she announced. "Great job, sweetie."

"Can we go back now?"

"Yes, yes." she turned around and started walking back, Erik following behind her.

"My husband's name was Lucien", she remarked. "On the off chance that you do see his ghost, tell him - I don't know, I'll think of something, I suppose."

"Lucien", he repeated. "I'll thank him for the clothes."

"Alright", she laughed.

ooo

It took a few more walks until Erik was ready to not only exit the house with her but enter another building. The whole thing had to be carefully planned so that he could have enough time to prepare and enough space not to panic in the presence of other people. Luckily, Opera Populaire had such a strange design that Antoinette sometimes felt as if it was made specifically to hide people in the shadows; with numerous corridors and dark spots it would give Erik enough options to hide somewhere and watch the performance in peace.

"I still don't understand _why_ I'm doing this", he admitted earlier that day.

"Because it will be good for you", she said sternly. "You can't be cooped up in this room all the time. You're a smart boy, and I see you're growing bored here", she nodded at him. "And you deserve to see something of the world, even if this is all I can manage to show you right now."

Antoinette did her usual pre-performance routine of dropping Meg off to a babysitter, packing everything she'd need for at least 12 hours and - remembering Erik would need food and water for all that time she packed _that_ as well, while he paced around nervously.

"Calm down, honey", she said. "We'll be there hours early. Nobody will see you."

As Erik put on several layers of clothing, along with the usual mask-scarf-cloak ensemble, she locked the door and led him through the street quickly. They entered through a back entrance, one of the ones used by staff - and the least used one, too. Erik refused to enter and waited around the corner until she checked it was indeed empty on both sides and called him. He entered quickly and stood next to her, his eyes darting nervously around the room.

"Alright", she said. "So, you'll have to wait until we're done rehearsing before the play."

He nodded, still looking around.

"I have something to show you", she said, leading him on. She opened a small, unassuming door he noticed before but didn't think much of it.

"This place has a lot of built-in corridors", she showed him inside. "They all eventually lead to the cellars, but you don't have to go through them to pass. They were built so that the staff could move more easily through the building without upsetting the guests. Let me show you." she led him through the corridor, feeling her way around, until they reached a certain point.

"We're close to the stage now", she said, opening a tiny peephole in another small door. "See?"

"Yes", he said. He could see both the auditorium and the stage, though not too well - they were rather high up.

"This was built so that the staff could, in the event of some immediate danger, react quickly", she said. "There are several of these all across the auditorium, but this one is rarely used. It's too high up to be practical. There are no tickets sold at this part of the balcony for this performance, so there will be nobody here."

"Are you sure?" he asked warily.

"Yes", she replied sternly. "I wouldn't put you in danger. You can trust me."

He decided to keep quiet.

"In any case, you can wander around here if you want", she said. "It's a long time until the performance. Look here", she went another way and led him through another narrow corridor.

"This is the library", she announced. "Right past this door. You can find something to read here, nobody will be here today."

"Alright", he nodded. She led him into the large, dimly-lit room. It contained more books than he had ever seen in his life - an entire maze of bookshelves stretching from floor to ceiling, along with decorative statues and paintings. It looked… well, he felt excitement in his heart from the prospect of finally getting to read something new - but it also looked strangely peaceful. Erik had never been in a library in his life, and wasn't aware how quiet they were; it seemed to him like the _absolute best_ room in the whole world.

"I have to go now. We'll be rehearsing the ballet parts first, and you can come watch if you want. If not, you're welcome to stay here until eight", Antoinette explained. "I think you'll enjoy this opera. I really hope so", she blushed slightly. "We all worked hard on it."

Erik nodded, looking around the giant library - to be fair, it wasn't as objectively giant as it seemed to him. "I like it here."

"You'll like it even more when you see the opera", she chuckled. "Don't get distracted with reading too long. You'll miss it."

ooo

After the performance ended, Antoinette looked for Erik in the library, the corridors and the empty spaces around the auditorium, saying goodbye and dismissing people who wanted to congratulate her and make small talk - she had a mission, and she had no time for pleasantries. She couldn't find him anywhere, so she simply stood around, making just enough conversation not to be suspicious, looking around all the time trying to spot a figure in the shadows.

After everyone left, she snuck back inside - she had her own key for the back entrance - and called for him openly.

"Erik!" she called at the empty hallway.

Nobody answered.

Antoinette searched the corridors again, but no luck. Finally, even though she knew it was a small chance he'd go so close to the stage, she entered the tiny space under the orchestra pit.

"Erik!" she repeated, feeling panic welling up in her throat.

After a few seconds, a shape materialized next to her from the shadows.

"Where have you _been?_ " she asked angrily. "You worried me! Why didn't you respond when I called you?"

"You called me?" he asked, his eyes strangely glassy and unfocused.

"Called you? I've been looking for you for hours! I searched half the floor looking for you!" she crossed her arms, looking at him sternly.

"I didn't hear you", he said, looking at some indistinct point in front of him. "I was thinking."

Antoinette blinked, worrying for a second he might be spiraling into one of those strange moods - but he didn't seem upset at all.

"Darling, what's wrong?" she asked, softening her tone.

"Nothing", he whispered. "Everything is absolutely right."

Antoinette stared at him for a second - he didn't seem to notice it at all. "Sweetie, you're acting strange."

"Am I?" he said, shaking his head. "I don't feel strange. I feel… wide awake, but in a dream."

Wondering which part of that was not _strange_ for his standards, Antoinette still decided to go for the optimistic approach. "Is it because of the opera, dear? You enjoyed it?"

"The opera", he whispered. "I have never… I didn't know something like this existed."

"Something like what?"

"Something like this kind of music", he breathed. "I have… I had… when I was little I played a little bit of piano, but it wasn't… it was nothing like this, never like this, not even close." he took a deep breath. "This is the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced. Thank you, Antoinette."

"You're welcome", she said slowly. It was the most she had ever heard him speak, and the first time he openly thanked her for something, but she didn't want to comment on it. "I'll take you here again, if you want."

"I want to stay here", he looked directly into her eyes. It was alsothe first time he expressed wanting something so openly; he usually only said when he _didn't_ want something. Antoinette could only look at him in awe; he seemed like a completely different person - as if all of his repressed humanity came back upon hearing the music. He was no longer the insecure, silent ghostly apparition - he stood up straight and spoke without hesitation, even though he was obviously still dreamy and distracted - and Antoinette understood in that moment what he meant by _wide awake, but in a dream_.

"You can't exactly _stay_ here, dear", she started patiently. "But we can come back again if you want."

"But why not?" he pleaded. "I've been around. This place is enormous. Did you know it has five floors underground? They're massive. Nobody ever goes there, it's completely empty."

"Yes, I know", she frowned. "Did you go down there by yourself? How did you get - "

"There's so much empty space here", he pressed. "Nobody would ever know I'm here, and I wouldn't bother you in your apartment, and - and- you'd come visit me, right?" he finished, the hesitation in his voice coming back.

"I'll never abandon you, dear", Antoinette said, looking at him in thought. He was right about one thing - he wasn't exactly _bothering_ her in her apartment, but she was still wary about introducing him to Meg. Another inconvenient thing had started happening - as Erik grew more comfortable around Antoinette, he started sleeping more - and inevitably, he started dreaming. It was only a matter of time before neighbors figured out whose apartment the occasional screaming was coming from and started asking uncomfortable questions. Antoinette didn't want to think about what her well-adjusted, God-fearing neighbors would do upon finding out about her current living arrangement. She avoided mentioning it to Erik - it was hardly his fault, after all - but it had started worrying her enough that she was considering if they could all move.

This would potentially solve that problem, but she would _never_ leave him somewhere she wasn't certain he would have decent living conditions and safety.

"Are you really serious about this?" she asked.

"Yes!" his eyes widened. "I want to stay here! There's enough place for me here, and I wouldn't bother anybody!"

"Where exactly do you want to live?"

"Uh", he started. "I… haven't decided yet, but I think it's best if I'm underground. Nobody will be able to find me."

"It's dangerous down there", she cut him off. "And dark, and cold, and probably moldy."

"No, no, it's not", he interrupted. "Not dangerous. It's dark, but I can see well enough. Cold doesn't bother me that much. I can fix it, actually", he fumbled. "Once I get stronger. I can clean up one part of the cellars, and it would be fine."

Antoinette thought about it. It was a wild, preposterous idea, yes - why was she even considering it? She cast a glance his way and immediately remembered why. In her long years of experience with young people, she had learned how to keep them in check and have them listen to her. Her authority was never in question, but every once in a while, every kid had that _one_ wish they would fight tooth and nail for, that one thing they wanted so frantically and desperately they'd do everything it took and bother everyone around them until they got it - and looking into Erik's eyes, she knew that this was it. It was crucial how she responded to this situation; crucial both for him and for his relationship with her.

"I'll consider it", she said.

END OF CHAPTER 22

 _A/N:_ _Hello everyone! Admittedly, it's been a while. Real life has been kicking my ass, and I didn't have much time to write. This chapter is a bit of a slice-of-life flashback because I really enjoyed writing this type of thing, and also because I need some time to get the main plot going for now. The next chapter will be the main (current) plot, but for now I hope you'll enjoy this. It doesn't really add new information to the story, but it gives character exposition and I like that in novels so hopefully you'll enjoy it too :) have a nice weekend as always and I hope to see you again next week!_


	23. Floating

_June 1895, Le Havre_

It was a bland little boat - out of the ones she could afford, Amelija chose the one that seemed sturdiest and least likely to sink to the bottom of the sea. Granted, it was ugly, plain and didn't have anything remotely fun, but so what? So what if there wouldn't be champagne and oysters on the trip? Amelija could live four weeks without champagne, or so she told herself.

Luckily, she at least had some chocolate packed in her suitcase.

She turned back to look at her companions. "This seems alright, doesn't it?"

Antoinette nodded. "Wise decision. It's a safe ship."

"My funds are not that tight, but they're still limited." Amelija said, feeling the slightest hint of embarrassment.

"Don't worry", Antoinette smiled at her. "Where you're going, it's unlikely your hosts would judge you for that. I don't think they're rolling in money either, but I'm sure they'll find enough ways to spoil you while you stay."

"Alina _could_ have been rolling in money by now, if she had listened to tata", Amelija shrugged. "I'd assume she actively _doesn't_ want to be rich, considering her decisions."

Amelija's nanny - well, her _older male cousin mama sent to keep an eye and see if she needed anything and make sure no-one bothered her -_ Nikola, smiled at her mischievously, the corners of his handsome dark eyes wrinkling a bit. "That's your secret, then? You're just _that_ good at obeying people, huh?"

Amelija gave him back a brilliant yet vaguely predatory smile. "Aren't I? We're both here because of it."

"I wouldn't dare suggest otherwise."

"What _is_ your plan anyway, if I may know?" Antoinette asked. Amelija opened her mouth, trying to improvise a half-truth that would be vague enough that her parents couldn't stop her even if they found out what was going on, when Nikola - that stupid loudmouthed bastard, started talking.

"Well, auntie and uncle agreed to send her only if she has an older man to accompany her on such a long trip, given how frail she is", he winked at her, "and, well, they wanted to send my dad, which - I'd say, it would not make for a fun trip. Luckily, I stepped in to save her."

"He was going anyways", Amelija gritted through her teeth. "Nikola is a biologist, he's writing a book about the flora and fauna of North America. So we agreed that I'd wait until summer and go with him. After that he can wander off and do whatever the hell he does and I can stay with Alina."

"Ah. So you'll be together until you reach New York and go separate ways, then?"

"That's right", Nikola pinched Amelija's round cheeks, wiggling her face. "But don't tell Aunt Jelena. She was adamant that Amelija, her perfect sweet baby child, needs a chaperone to call if she gets a runny no-"

"I am going to murder you in your slee-"

"Fair enough", Antoinette said. "That's convenient."

"What's convenient is", Amelija wiggled out of Nikola's grasp, "that my parents trust Nikola completely, and think he's a perfect upstanding young gentleman. Conveniently, I'm the one who has been planting that idea in their heads for nearly two decades, because if they'd heard _any_ of the things he does on his trips, neither of us would leave our houses ever again."

"You watch my back, I watch yours", he smiled charmingly again. "Besides, they do know one thing I do on my trips."

"Which is?"

"I study the flora and fauna of the world", he said smugly. "I do have a doctorate."

"If by _flora and fauna_ you mean _tobacco, wine and handsome me-"_

"Enough", he said suddenly. "Science is a serious matter. And the reason why we're both here, so let's leave it at that."

ooo

Amelija saw a young blonde-haired sailor looking at her like he was seeing a ghost, but it only lasted for a second before he tipped his hat and scurried away. The rest of them were busy enough, shouting orders among themselves and preparing to set sail.

Nikola came up next to her and dropped their bags unceremoniously to the floor.

"Careful, I have important things in there", she hissed.

"If they were that important you'd carry them yourself", he retorted. "I need a cigarette, and you're welcome to join me if you'd like. I won't tell your mom." Nikola took out a cigarette out of his pocket, lit it up and made himself comfortable on the nearest bench. Amelija sat next to him, taking a puff when he offered.

"Your sister always was a weird cookie", he remarked.

"Yes", she sighed.

"And now you're following her", he blew out a long cloud of smoke. "Imagine if you too find a hubby in New York and decide to stay. How would you decide who goes back? I propose fighting to death."

"Like in your animal kingdom books?"

"Yes, assert dominance, become the alpha."

"I'm not staying", Amelija said. "I just wanted to check up on her and this man she's with."

"What do you know about him, even?"

"A very confusing mess of conflicting information." she paused. "I've no idea what to think. It seems he wasn't very... beloved back in Paris, but he's doing alright in New York. And he's treating her well, it seems. From what she's written, he seems to adore her, a lot more than even she knows."

"Saccharine."

"Ew, I know", she grimaced. "To think she once read Oscar Wilde with us and sassed everyone who flirted with her."

"She never was like us, not really", Nikola looked at Amelija gently. "You knew that."

"She was a prude, that's true."

"She was honest."

"That too."

Amelija went silent, sinking into a kind of low mood Nikola had occasionally seen her in during her childhood years; it wasn't easy to notice, but he was perceptive - her arrogantly beautiful face frowned just slightly, and if one listened very carefully they could notice her voice becoming quieter - sadder.

Nikola didn't like being around sad people for long; especially not his favorite cousin, so he thought quickly. Other passengers had also boarded the ship and now they were slowly coming out of their cabins, looking out to the sea and talking among themselves.

"Alright, since we'll be bored to death on this ship for weeks, I propose a game", he said, struck by sudden inspiration. "Whoever digs out the juiciest secret on this ship by the time we reach Ellis Island, wins. We should get to know our fellow men after all and, maybe, God forbid, make some honest friends."

ooo

 _Coney Island, New York_

The girl in Alina's office was an image of perfection: her red hair was perfectly combed and neatly tied, her light blue dress impeccably clean and pressed, and even her freckles symmetrical, tidy somehow. Her name was Hannah, and her behavior was very much alike to her appearance: she never talked too loudly, she was never rude or disruptive, she never got involved in fights with her friends and she never, ever got bad grades, for as long as anyone who knew her could remember.

Which made it all the more bizarre that she was now crying inconsolably about failing all of her classes.

"Honey", Alina started, feeling too surprised to react properly. "What are you talking about?"

"I can't pass the final exams", the girl cried, shaking slightly. "I can't study, and I'll fail, and and everyone will see it and I'll have to -"

"Hold on", Alina raised her hands in a calming gesture. "Who said that?"

"Nobody, but they don't know", the girl was no longer crying, but she seemed to be shaking slightly more, as well as gasping for air.

"Know what?" Alina still couldn't quite catch up, but she had a feeling this girl would spiral into something hard to control unless she stopped it on time. _Yeah, no pressure._

"That I haven't been studying", the girl said, her gasping growing quicker. "I think I'm sick, I might be faint-"

"You won't faint, dear", Alina said gently and quietly. "You'll be alright. You're just a little flustered, this happens when people are upset sometimes. Can you tell me", she paused to think of something for a moment. "Can you tell me where your family lives?"

"Across the island." the girl managed.

"Do you know the street name?"

"Langham Street, Miss." Hannah remembered herself long enough to use the proper way to address her teacher.

"Are there any trees in front of your house?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Which trees?"

"One magnolia", she paused. "And a birch."

"Magnolias are still in bloom?"

"Not anymore, miss", Hannah's breathing was slowly going back to normal. "It's not their season."

"Ah. What a shame", Alina winked. "We had one in front of my parents' house, too. I miss it."

"Uh-huh", Hannah managed, unsure what to say. Was it proper to ask more about it?

"Would you like to take a walk with me, and maybe we can think of some solution better when we're outside among the trees and birds?"

"Yes, Miss", Hannah nodded.

The day was wonderfully sunny and warm, but not too warm; dandelion seeds fluttered around in the air, blown by the mild breezes of early June. Alina enjoyed the scene for a moment before turning to her little companion - Hannah's copper hair glowed like liquid metal in sunlight, but her expression made Alina imagine a tiny raincloud hovering right above her head.

"So, what's stopping you from studying for your finals?" Alina said casually, stopping to look at a particularly curious tulip. It had been yellow a month ago, but some kind of disease - Alina could not remember the name, even though she had seen it already back home - was slowly turning its petals bright red, as if it was bleeding from the center to the outside. It was beautiful, if a bit morbid.

"Nothing", Hannah shrugged. "I'm just lazy."

"That can't be true, can it?"

"I get home every day, and I do nothing", Hannah replied, growing slightly frustrated. "I stare at my wall for hours and I don't do anything. I can't make myself do it anymore. It's been going on for weeks."

"Huh." Alina raised her eyebrows. "Laziness is not something I encounter very often."

"Sorry?" Hannah looked at her. That sounded fake. Everyone was lazy. Even her, apparently, though she worked so hard to weed that out of herself.

"Yes, well, laziness is rarely the answer. Usually, the child either has no reason or motivation to do something", she waved her hand dismissively, "in which case it's quite understandable, and we simply have to find one. You, however, do want to study. Your grades are important to you."

"Yes, Miss."

"Which makes me think of the other possible option - something's stopping you."

"But what?" Hannah felt her eyes welling up with tears again. "Nothing's different. Nobody's bothering me. My parents are at work all day, and I have enough peace to study. But I don't do it."

"Your parents work all day?"

"Yes. They sacrificed everything for us - my sisters and me. I can't let them down", she felt panic well up in her chest again.

"Nonsense, dear, you're not letting them down", Alina smiled. "Now, tell me more. What do you think about when you go home and stare at the wall?"

"Nothing."

"Really?"

"Mostly about how I need to get moving and start studying, or I'll fail."

"And then?" Alina raised her eyebrow.

"I'll let everyone down."

"That's very scary, isn't it?" she said carefully. Hannah was extremely sensitive; everything she did, she did to please others. It was not something Alina could really relate to - she could understand Hannah's feelings of duty and her desire to be "good" and "perfect" in everyone's eyes, but if Alina, personally, had to act the way Hannah did - she was quite sure she'd have either snapped or ran away much, much sooner than this. In the face of impossibly strict standards, there were mostly only two options child would choose between, in Alina's experience. One of them were kids like Hannah - when told "you're not good enough", they'd cry and beat themselves over it, promising to try harder until the adults were pleased.

Alina just happened to belong to the second group - the ones who, when told "you're not good enough" would say "fine, then I'll be terrible", and stubbornly go their own way. _Which ones are crazy, then? I'm not sure. I wonder what Amelija would say to this._

"That would be awful", Hannah admitted.

"Would they punish you?"

"No. They would just be very disappointed", Hannah swallowed. "Mama said they had to go through such terrible things to get here, and to make a decent living… and I can't even pass my exams."

"Have you ever failed an exam, dear?" Alina asked, trying very hard not to seem annoyed.

"No, but…" Hannah trailed off.

"Hmm." this was not the type of problem Alina was accustomed to, really, and she tried to think of something to say - something helpful, whatever that might be. It probably wouldn't mean much if she just told the girl she had no chance of failing - other students may have started studying a few weeks ago but Hannah had started nine months ago, in September, on the first day of school. It was true, but Hannah probably wouldn't believe her. The only thing that could actually make her fail would be her nerves. _Let's not tell her that._

"Alright, let's suppose you fail", she said. "What then?"

"Then my parents would be dis-"

"Yes, alright. But what would actually happen? You've had stellar grades throughout the school year. Do you know what happens when you fail the summer finals?"

"You… go again in August?"

"That's right", Alina said. "You just try again in two months. It's a bit inconvenient to study over the summer, I'll admit. But it happens all the time."

"Really?"

"Yes, of course", Alina laughed. "Plenty of people who are now perfectly happy and have finished school have at some point failed something, and plenty of children will fail again this year. Failing something is a part of life. It doesn't make you stupid, or worthless, or a failure."

"What does?" Hannah asked. Alina had never heard her ask so many questions before - Hannah, bright, serious, mature, always simply _answered_ questions, and correctly, too. Hannah had spent so much time doing the _right things_ that Alina had a feeling she didn't really have the gall to ask if they really were right all along.

"I don't know", Alina replied thoughtfully. "What if nothing does? As long as you live, maybe you're not a failure."

"That's not true", Hannah narrowed her eyes at her. _She's contradicting me now, too? Maybe I'm so good with naughty kids because I'm the one ruining them? That would be fun._

"Maybe so, maybe not. But it's what I think. As long as you breathe, you can turn your life around, so you're not a failure. And as long as you're a decent person trying to do good, I will never think you're a disappointment", she said gently. "Even if you fail. And we've spent a lot of time together, so I can confidently claim you are a good girl who tries very hard and cares very much."

"Oh." Hannah smiled and blushed slightly, unsure what to say.

"Now, if you actually pass, what happens then?" Alina continued. "What will you do?"

"I… don't know", Hannah admitted, slightly surprised.

"Do your parents ever reward you for your excellence in school?"

"My mom bakes me a cake, or teaches me a new crochet pattern", she replied. "Dad takes me to the fair sometimes. If I've been good I get to pick something for myself."

"What would you pick?"

"I like ceramic birds", Hannah admitted. "The ones that can whistle."

"Well, so it's safe to assume if you pass these exams you'll get a cake, a day at the fair, and a ceramic bird?" Alina smiled. "That sounds pretty good, doesn't it?"

"Yes", Hannah smiled.

"So all that's standing between you and all that stuff is surviving the next two weeks, isn't it?" Alina smiled.

"I guess."

"The exams are not that hard, darling", Alina looked her in the eye. "You are the best in the class. Even if you took them right now, you wouldn't fail them. You know that, right?"

Hannah blinked, looking uncertain.

"You don't want to just avoid failure, do you?", Alina continued, gaining some confidence. "Don't try to be modest, now. You want to succeed. You want to get good grades, and make your parents and teachers proud, and you want to get all those presents knowing how much you've deserved them. You want to be proud of yourself. Isn't that right?"

"I do", Hannah admitted, looking slightly embarrassed.

"There's nothing wrong with it", Alina grinned. "Now that you admitted it, I can tell you - if you start now, you have a very good chance of doing just that. Sweep everyone off their feet and spend the summer knowing you're one of the brightest kids in my class. I'll be rooting for you."

Hannah laughed a little in embarrassment, but said nothing. "I'll try."

"No, you'll win", Alina winked. "They've got nothing on you."

ooo

Sitting in the shadows with crickets chirping loudly all around, Erik got so lost in his thoughts he almost didn't notice Alina passing him by. He stood up too abruptly - stumbling slightly as his vision went black - and hurried after her.

"Hello. You're out early", he remarked.

"I need to go home before I cook in my own skin like a lobster", she replied. " _How_ is it so hot outside?"

"I'm not sure. Do you know any way I could just cease existing until, say, mid-September?"

"If you find a way, let me know", she puffed. "I hate to say it, but maybe I need one of those nifty little ladylike fans."

"Might help."

"How was your day, anyway?" she smiled, turning to him.

"Humid."

"Aside from that?"

"Well, I taught Piotr how to draw a cat, per his request. I take full responsibility for all the half-finished cats you find around the house, especially the ones near the bottom of walls, approximately at the height of a four-year-old-child."

Alina laughed. "I wouldn't dare remove them."

"I knew you'd say that, but Yana still insisted that I say it's my fault and not hers", he shrugged. "And how have you been?"

"Uh", she puffed. "Things have a way of falling apart near the end of the school year. People have a tendency to fall apart, too. it's … straining."

"You've been anxious lately", he remarked.

"Yes. And you, too", she turned to him.

"Is this going to be my fault?"

"What? No? Why'd you think -" surprised, Alina raised her voice without realizing.

"Because you said people around you were falling apart, and it was straining to you", he also raised his voice, also without realizing.

"But that's not what I meant! I was asking how you were, how did you manage to turn it into -"

"I didn't turn anything, it's what you said - "

"Why are you snapping at me?" Alina stopped and looked at Erik.

"Why are _you_ snapping at me?" he replied, looking stubbornly back.

"I'm n-" she started, then stopped. Her brow furrowed a little as she looked away to think. "Alright, maybe I was, but it was not my intention. I was surprised", she said back in her normal voice, gesturing with her arms peacefully.

Erik looked at her in stubborn silence for a few more seconds.

"Can we get away from the sun?" she gestured at the path in front of them.

Erik nodded, starting to walk, and Alina followed next to him.

A few more moments passed in stubborn silence.

"You know, I really didn't mean -"

"I know", he interrupted, looking ahead. "It's not your fault. I misunderstood."

They were getting near the house now. Another minute passed in silence before Alina finally broke it.

"Why are you upset?"

Erik sighed. "I'll tell you later."

"Why later?"

"Because we're in the middle of the street, and because the sun is somehow managing to burn my jaw and neck through this collar, and because I'm already in a bad mood right now and would like some time in peace and quiet, if that's alright."

"That's alright."

"Good", he sighed again. "You know, I spent most of my life wishing I'd live under the sun, and frankly I think this is some sick practical joke the world is playing on me personally."

"I'll race you to the nearest cave?" Alina offered, fanning herself with a handful of papers.

"Yes, and then you'd faint halfway there from the heat, and people would see a masked man carrying your limp body into a cave and I'd have to move to another continent again."

Alina's shoulders shook a little. "That's -"

"What?"

"That- I can imagine that happening", she started snickering. "Except if anyone actually stopped you on the street while you carried me, I'm quite sure you'd simply die of embarrassment."

"I'd come back to haunt you."

Alina burst out into real laughter. "Oh god. I can imagine that, too."

"I'd draw on your walls and fill your pockets with sawdust."

"You're going to hell for that!" she waved a strict finger at him, still laughing as she remembered the wretched sawdust that spilled all over her dresses and shoes for weeks.

"Would I notice the difference? Compared to New York in June?" he allowed a smile to spread across his lips, looking at her sideways as he stopped at the front door to take his key out. "You're at my mercy, mademoiselle."

"Oh! Spare some mercy for the poor _madmazel_!" she brought up her palm to her forehead, pretending to stumble dramatically as Erik rolled his eyes.

"I will when I see one", Jack's voice said behind them with barely concealed amusement as they both jumped up in unison. He passed by and waved at them, smiling smugly.

ooo

A few hours later, as first starts appeared in the night sky Alina knocked lightly on the door of Erik's room.

"Yes?" she heard from inside and opened the door.

Erik was lying comfortably on the floor under his window with his hands under his head, looking outside. As Alina leaned on the doorframe, he shifted his gaze at her and for a moment she thought he'd say something. He gave her a slight smile.

"That's not such a bad idea,'' she said. "Is it cooler on the floor?"

"It is. The stars are starting to appear, too."

"Ooooh", she walked over to the window and looked outside. "Oh, it's really nice."

"I'd ask you to join me, if you don't mind lying on- alright." Alina was already lying next to him before he could finish the sentence. She propped her head up on her elbow and looked through the window.

"I know that one. It's the evening star", she said. "Venus. Or, Danica in Croatian."

"Don't you have a cousin named Danica?"

"I do. It's a common name. Wouldn't you name your daughter "daylight star" if you could?"

"What does your name mean?"

"Huh", she blinked. "I was supposed to be named Adelina. But my father misheard my mother when she told him and he wrote me down in the books as Alina. She said it should serve me as a reminder that you can't trust men to do anything right."

"That explains a lot", he coughed slightly with what resembled laughter. "I like Alina better."

"Somebody once told me it means 'noble child'." she turned to him. "What does your name mean? It doesn't sound French at all."

"It's not. I haven't the faintest idea what it means or why I got it." he shifted a little. "It's Swedish, I think."

"Are _you?_ From Sweden?"

"No. Not as far as I know. Neither was my... mother, but maybe my father was. But I'm technically not French, either - if anything, I'll soon be American."

"Strange. I wouldn't put you down as American any more than Swedish, or French, or Croatian."

"Where would you pin me, then?" he looked back at her with a strange expression.

"There", she pointed her finger at the horizon outside. "You're from that little crimson strip of the sky between the stars and the ground."

Erik blinked.

"Did you think you were the only one who could, God forbid, say something romantic?" she giggled at him.

"Oh, my sincerest apologies, _madmazel._ That did surprise me a little", he said gently as Alina laid her head down on his shoulder and looked at the sky. He shifted a little to put his arm around her.

Alina stared outside peacefully for what seemed like eternity, enjoying the silence. After a while, she somehow managed to pull her attention away from the stars and ask the question she came to ask in the first place.

"Why are you so distressed lately?" she asked quietly.

Erik sighed.

"If you don't want to tell me- "

"It's your sister."

"Amelija?" she frowned. "She won't be here for at least another two weeks."

"I like to start worrying early, so I can get through most of the disastrous possibilities beforehand."

"Does it ever help?"

"No, life usually comes up with some disaster I haven't anticipated."

"Ah." Alina stretched a little. "Why is Amelija's visit a potential disaster?"

Erik rolled his eyes, trying to think of how to explain something so obvious to her.

"Obviously, she's coming here to see how you're doing."

"Yes."

He rolled his eyes again. "As much as I'd like to believe it's purely a social visit to have fun with you, I can't help but think she's here to see if you're living in decent conditions."

"Definitely, I think it's very normal that my family is worried. But my conditions are more than decent, and they'll soon be reassured", she replied.

"Even with your choice of company?" he retorted sharply.

"Are you asking if my family will approve of you?" Alina turned to him. "What difference does it make? They barely approve of _me_ as it is."

"Practically, it does make a difference if they start digging around for me in Paris." _and it does make a difference, you beautiful stupid… of course it makes a difference if everyone you've ever loved thinks I'm unworthy of you. I wouldn't send my own child to live with me._

"That will not happen", Alina puffed. "Amelija will tell them whatever they want to hear."

"Unless she disapproves as well."

"You wouldn't say that if you knew her", Alina frowned with slight annoyance. "I can't prove this to you now, but you'll see. Amelija is much smarter than you give her credit for. She'll understand."

"But-" _isn't that the whole problem?_

"I don't want to argue, please. I trust my sister's judgment, and her heart."

Erik sighed.

"Is that all?" she asked again. "Is there anything else bothering you?"

"I'm bothering myself. Nothing you should worry about."

"What does that mean?"

Erik stared silently through the window for a good few minutes, not giving any sign that he heard her.

"When I was young, there was a very simple truth I knew, but have managed to somehow forget in the meantime", he finally spoke. "Antoinette asked me once, right after we met, if I was unhappy with her and - well, I was. She took it to heart very much."

"Huh."

"It's not that she was doing anything wrong, oh no. I was the happiest I'd ever been when I met her, and the more I knew her the more I loved her and never wanted to leave her house. But I was still myself, and I was miserable and never spoke, and it confused her because she thought she was doing something wrong. Am I making any sense for now?"

"You're saying that I can't somehow make you happy?" Alina asked.

"You're everything I've ever wished for", Erik replied with ardent sincerity. "And you do make me happy, but you simply cannot un-make what I am. No matter what you do, and where you take me, it will be the same, because I will be taking myself along too."

"Huh."

"And, as I've said once to Antoinette, it is not your fault", he finished. "I am moody, yes, and often easily angered, and at my core I am miserable. I have always been. It's not something I cannot live with. Can you?" he turned to her slightly.

"Yes", she said quietly.

"That doesn't mean I will be a threat to you", he added quickly.

"No, I didn't think so", she shook her head. "It just always shocks me a little when I run into things I can't simply tackle head-on and change."

"I know. But you can't", he looked at her. "I don't know, and it's irrelevant, whether I was born like this or it came over the years. It just matters if we, more importantly - you, can live with it."

"Hmm", Alina's eyes reflected the starry sky as she stared outside in thought. "We've done well enough so far."

ooo

As good as Amelija was at fishing secrets out of people, it wasn't the same as actually being interested in them, and Nikola noticed that very early on. _They_ didn't notice, thank God; she was incredibly polite and attentive with everyone but there wasn't any light in her eyes, any sincere joy in her voice when she talked about the "friends" she made with other passengers. She was playing along - for the feeling of accomplishment, or out of boredom, or simply because she didn't want him to worry. If he had asked her, and if she bothered to actually answer truthfully, she probably would have said it was all three. To be honest, this visit to her sister was worrying her, and not just for the obvious reasons. There were many conflicting feelings in her heart about Alina leaving her family - leaving _her,_ first and foremost - without a second thought that she had not deemed important to think about or face until now. But now she would have to. Of course, if Alina turned out to be miserable, that would be horrible. But what if she turned out to be happy? In a strange land, with strange people, having built a new life for herself while Amelija stayed behind? What was she hoping to find, exactly?

She usually didn't go further in her thinking than that. As soon as she felt the pain of rejection, she'd seek out some company to distract her, and this time was no different - she turned around from the fence she was leaned on looking to the sea, and faced back to the ship deck, looking for some company. But there was nobody.

Nobody but that young sailor boy, who didn't have the time to react quickly enough and so she caught a glimpse of that same strange look in his eyes before he composed himself and tried hurrying away.

"Hello?" Amelija called after him, this time out of genuine curiosity for a change. She hurried after him, picking up pace. "Hello, can you help me?"

Being part of the ship crew - and the youngest one at that - the boy couldn't really say 'no' to that particular sentence from an esteemed passenger, so he halted. Amelija anticipated that and stopped a few steps from him, choosing her words carefully.

"I, uh… are you terribly busy? This ship is making me very sick, and I would like some company to distract me. My cousin is busy writing. I have some chocolates to share", she finished, smiling slightly.

It was a terrible lie. The sea was very calm, and she didn't at all look like someone who was seasick. The boy raised an eyebrow, but nodded at her.

"As you wish, Miss. I'm at your disposal."

Amelija sat down, offering him some chocolate. He hesitated for a moment before taking one.

"You're very young. How long have you been serving?"

"Three years, miss."

"On this same ship?"

"No, I was on a different one until this year. Captain noticed me and said I was promising, so they transferred me", he said proudly.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you, miss."

A very uncomfortable silence spread out between them.

"So - "

"I've wanted to ask - "

The sailor boy closed his mouth, politely letting her finish.

"I couldn't help but notice you looking at me kind of afraid", Amelija said as gently as she could. "Why is that? You don't seem to be afraid of anyone else."

"Afraid, miss? I'm not afraid at all of you. You seem nice."

"What is it, then?"

"You remind me of someone I met around a year and a half ago, and it's... you look very much alike. That's all. I haven't thought about her in awhile. I have no clue where she might be."

"Someone you know?" Amelija stood up straight. "Some girl you met?"

"Not really a girl, miss. Older than you."

"Was she your friend?"

"She was a passenger on my last ship, and yes, we became friends. But she, uh, disappeared."

Amelija blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"She disappeared, along with the man who was with her, in, uh, unknown circumstances. People disappear all the time from the cheap ships, so it wasn't so strange. They probably tried to evade the border police", the boy fumbled looking away, obviously in distress, obviously hiding something.

"Uh-huh", Amelija said. "And I remind you of her?"

"You just look very similar. And the way you talk, too."

"What was her name?" she asked.

"Lena, I think. No, no, Alina." he stood up straighter. "She was really nice. She helped me out with... some personal things. I think about her a lot."

"Funnily enough", Amelija said through her teeth, growing _very_ tired of all the ghosts of her past intent on mocking her, "I have a sister of the same name. And you say she disappeared under mysterious circumstances?"

The boy paled. "I'm sure she's - "

"How are you sure, exactly?" Amelija said quietly, looking at him with ice-cold rage.

"Because I - the man would have protected her", he fumbled before realizing, horrified, the lady may not have known about the man. _Stupid, stupid, stupid, idiot-_

"Ah yes, he would have?" Amelija raised her voice slightly. "You know, after all I've heard, I'm absolutely inclined to believe he would have protected her! You have reassured me completely!"

"Oh, alri-"

"I was sarcastic, you- you- God damnit!" she stomped her foot in frustration.

"Sorry."

"What else do you know about them?"

"Well, miss, I can safely say I don't know where they went", _thank God,_ "but I'm sure they are fine. They didn't die. They reached the shore safely."

"I know that, yes. How do _you_ know that?" Amelija demanded.

"Because, uh, I - I just do", he finished weakly.

"If you don't tell me everything you know right this instant I'm going to the captain and - "

"Alright, fine, stop yelling!" Desmond yelled, panicked. "I'll tell you! I'll tell you! But they'll have my hide for it, alright, if you tell anybody! I- " he lowered his voice, "I helped them escape, because the man was afraid of getting caught by the border police. And Alina, your sister, she wanted to stay with him."

"Wanted to, or had to?" Amelija asked sternly, pointing a finger at him. Desmond could feel his palms sweating like when he was a kid being interrogated by his mother. It didn't matter what he _actually_ did; something would probably be his fault. (His mother was easily diffused by witty humor and quick retorts, which was incidentally how Desmond developed those skills).

"I'm pretty sure if she didn't want to she could have just let him drown on his own-"

"Alright, fine", she interrupted. "And you helped them out of pure goodness of your heart?"

"Huh? Yes. We were friends. And she… did me a huge favour", he finished, blushing slightly.

Amelija stared at him, milliseconds away from smacking him straight across his head.

"Nothing like that oh my God oh my God calm down she helped me write a letter to my girl oh my God stop stop -" Desmond panicked, leaning away from her swinging hands. "She helped me write a letter, swear to God! My fiance wanted to leave me, and she convinced her to stay with me!"

"Did she?" Amelija hissed.

"Yes!" Desmond's voice went up a good octave higher in panic.

"And the man? What did you think of him?"

"He was like a badly-sealed barrel of gunpowder, to be honest. He avoided everybody for the entire trip. But he was nice when he talked to her, that's for sure. He wasn't uppity with me, either. I liked him."

"Again, a very low standard for goodness", Amelija grumbled.

"Seems that way, until you see him. He looks like every word he says, he has to rip out of himself by force. And I liked how he acted when they had a fight."

"They had a fight? Here?" Amelija asked sharply.

"Yeah, yeah, they argued. Everyone argues on the cross-Atlantic ships, miss. The sea gets to your head. But they - he apologized, and I liked that. Not many people do that around here."

"Alight, I believe you." Amelija slowly lowered her hands.

"You do?"

"Yes, Alina is a complete fool for other people's romances; I bet she still carries that old Jane Austen book around. Writing a love letter sounds like something she would do."

"Other people's romance, my arse", Desmond mumbled. "If she and that man aren't married by now I'll eat my own-ow! Ow! Stop it!"

END OF CHAPTER 23


	24. Courage

24\. Courage

If somebody had bothered to ask Erik why he was always carrying bits and pieces of his symphony around with him, he would deny ever doing that and probably leave the conversation immediately. The truth was, he absolutely was carrying one particular part he was most proud of with him at all times - and the reason for that was his hope that he'd muster up the courage, one of these days, to leave it somewhere for someone to read it. He hadn't mustered up the courage yet, and as he passed by his favorite musical venue in New York City he actually quickened his pace to make the tormenting moment shorter.

Not today, but maybe one day.

Today he had somewhere else to be, even though personally he didn't think it would be a particularly interesting event. Alina took her students' final exams incredibly seriously - and he wanted to be there not because he really cared that much for a bunch of loud children, but for her. Her performance was also being judged. He hoped she'd remember to leave a chair in the corner of the room somewhere where he wouldn't be noticeable, or he'd have to wait in her office.

Meanwhile, Alina was still at home, getting ready. She was at least as nervous as the kids taking the damned exams, if not more. She felt a bit hypocritical about it - it was easy to tell Hannah that one exam didn't mean that much, and truth be told, for someone like her it really didn't. Finals were usually only done as a single pen-and-paper test, and the grade would be added to the student's average grade - and that would be that. Most children and their parents only came today to pick up their evaluation papers, get congratulated and applauded and go home for the summer. Only the rare few, whose grades were "in between" would be called for an additional oral exam in front of witnesses to raise their grade. Hannah was also among them - her grades couldn't be raised because one couldn't go higher than straight-A's, but she would usually be called to read one of her essays or answer a few questions "to set an example of excellence". It was a tradition in some schools, and Alina absolutely loathed it. As she gathered her things and walked towards the school, she thought about it again - it was ridiculous to have children answer questions in front of a crowd, it was a ridiculous notion to have a child showcase school's prestige; she hated everything about it. Her mood might have been ever-so-slightly affected by the fact that her own performance during the school year was also on the line - Dowling's evaluation of her work was key in her getting a proper teaching license for the State of New York. She had thought her papers and experience from London would mean more - alas, at least it was good for her to be in the same situation as her students once in a while, if only to keep her grounded and empathetic to their struggles. _It builds character._

What Alina was most concerned about were the kids in her other class, especially Walter - dear Walter who almost refused to even take the finals and nearly dropped out of school when she suggested it. Alina insisted that Walter should be given a chance to take the finals orally no matter how he did on the written exams, and in front of witnesses, to make the whole thing public and shut up anyone who might gossip that she'd inflated his grades. His reading and writing were getting better, and his studying had immeasurably improved, but it wouldn't mean much unless other people were there to see it - Alina couldn't very well follow him through life and explain to people how to work with him; he would have to do that part alone. If, of course, he cared enough to cooperate. And if his parents even allowed him to continue his schooling. _If. If. If. So many ifs. None of that matters, it only matters what happens today. I really hope Walt doesn't panic and run away._ She entered the school, put down her things in her office and took a deep breath before she headed to the classroom. Some children and their parents were already in the school courtyard, pacing nervously; but neither Walt nor his family were anywhere to be seen.

ooo

"I can see you, Walter", Yana said nonchalantly as she was carefully putting cakes into designated boxes. "Don't even think about it."

Walter stood up from behind the counter, still eyeing the piece of medovik he tried to steal a second earlier.

"I'm hungry", he said, wondering how she could have possibly noticed him there. He really thought he was perfectly silent and out of her sight this time.

"You're late also", she replied. "You should be at school. All these cakes are going to your school, and you can have them after the exams. To celebrate."

"I'm not going", he said defiantly, looking at her.

"No?" she raised an eyebrow at the cookie that crumbled in her hand.

"No. And even if I did go, there would be nothing to celebrate. So you can just give me a piece right now", he folded his arms.

"No. You can have them at school."

"I reckon failing my finals will make me lose my appetite."

"You can have the cake if you fail", Yana turned to him and folded her hands as well. "You know what we do in my village?"

"I don't care."

"Don't sass the hand that feeds you, boy", she warned. "In my village, soldiers who get hurt or lose battle still get food. Workers who get hurt still get food. Little girls who can't learn to sew still get food. You know who doesn't get food?"

"No?"

"Cowards", she leaned closer to him. "Are you a coward, Walter?"

"Hey!" he raised his voice. "Don't give me that bull! I don't need Dowling coming at my ass again! I've had enough of his lectures!"

"So you're afraid of the principal?" Yana, on the other hand, lowered her voice to a whisper. "Is he stronger than you then?"

"Goddamnit! You can't tell me what to do!" Walter yelled, storming outside. "I'm not going, especially not because you bullied me into it! Have your stinking cake!"

"Yes, I'll see you there", Yana murmured, turning back to finish packing.

ooo

Alina was in the classroom well before the beginning, and she welcomed in the children who mostly arrived with their parents and settled down on their designated seats as parents stood by the walls - the desks were smaller and adjusted for children's bodies, so they weren't too comfortable for adults to sit in. Hannah O'Malley's entire family came, bursting with pride, and took their place by the wall next to her first-row classroom seat. After everyone arrived, Alina waited nervously for five more minutes before she announced the beginning - and surely enough, Walter snuck in and took his seat in the front row with the rest of the students who were supposed to take their orals. Judging eyes followed him across the room, and Alina made a show out of making eye contact with some of them and smiling very widely at Walt. Nobody from his family came with him. It fueled the pit in her stomach with some additional fire.

Alina first read the names of the children who had their grades rounded and congratulated each one of them as she gave them their papers and shook their parents' hands. It was a boring procedure - but the routine made her feel better and by the time the principal arrived for the oral exams, she already felt more or less like herself. Some of the crowd dispersed, but quite a lot of people stayed - whether it was out of respect or curiosity, Alina didn't know.

Walter, on the other hand, felt worse with each passing second. His hands shook with anticipation, and the dark circles under his eyes were more prominent than usual on his now ash-colored face. He had spent half of the night studying, which he would never admit to anyone - he cursed silently as he practiced his handwriting and repeated endlessly the names of various plants, capital cities, and the founding fathers. A year ago he was content to live his life as everyone else in his family did - struggling, working and cursing everyone who had it better - and he wouldn't be able, until he got very much older, to put into words exactly what made him want something else for himself or even try to get it.

All he knew was, if he let himself and his teacher down without trying today, the hatred he felt for the world would be nothing compared to the disdain he'd feel for himself. Walter didn't care much for being a good boy, he'd never given much thought to whether others liked him or found him scary. But, by God, no matter how scary or bad they thought he was, he would prove them once and for all that he wasn't stupid. He'd get that particular bit of respect for himself on this day, even if he couldn't control what the future held. Even if he didn't get a scholarship and spent the rest of his life in a coal mine instead of inventing machines, everyone would still know what he was capable of. Nobody could take that from him.

Knee-deep in the dread of his identity crisis, Walter barely registered when Hannah was called to read her poem. She was the last one before him, and if only he wasn't staring straight ahead in absolute horror, he would have noticed her smiling at him encouragingly as she passed him by.

ooo

About half an hour after the exams started, the door opened quietly and two teenage boys entered, carefully and shyly, to stand in the very back row. Both had the same piercing eyes as Walter and both were fairly short; one of them smiled and waved a barely noticeable gesture at Alina. Walter's brothers. She was surprised they could make it - they both had jobs and bosses that weren't exactly the understanding type, but whatever witchcraft they did to bring them here today, she was thankful for it. Walter noticed them, too, and stood straighter with a mixture of horror and pride. He didn't even notice Alina smiling at him, as the audience of parents and teachers clapped for Hannah O'Malley who, of course, finished her school year with perfect grades and a thunderous applause.

"Preston, Walter", principal Dowling called for him. Alina winked at him discreetly, but he barely registered it. Murmur spread through the rows of seated parents and other students as Walt stood up walked slowly to the front of the classroom. Hank and Sam straightened up, listening tentatively. Hank looked to Alina like he might start a fight with Dowling if he made Walt's life too difficult, and in that case she would probably join him as well. _Hang in there, Walt._

"Young mister Preston has been on a rather dramatic upswing lately", Dowling said, sifting through Walt's exams and essays. "Walter, can you tell me what motivated this sudden change?"

Walt stared at him, horrified. What exactly was he supposed to say? Teacher Alina shifted, attempting to say something, but Dowling gestured for her to keep quiet for now. She shrugged at Walt apologetically, smiling again.

"I don't know", he said. He could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on the back of his neck. He could practically hear them thinking how stupid he was.

"No?" Dowling said. "Nothing you can think of, at all?"

"No, I'm a bit too nervous to think, I can only answer what they taught me", Walter said automatically, not realizing his mistake until a laughter spread through the room. Alina let out a surprised chuckle as well, before banging her palm on the table. Dowling leaned back, unsure whether to be angry or amused.

"Quiet, please", Alina said sternly, and her deep voice echoed through the classroom smoothing the ripples of noise. "I think we're ready to begin the exam now, so we'll judge for ourselves how well Walter's upswing has been going." she waited for another moment until everyone calmed down, as Walter felt the first beads of sweat traveling down his neck. The floor he was standing on suddenly felt further and further away.

"Walter, first question", Teacher Alina looked directly at him, playing with the quill in her hand. "Please listen while I dictate these equations, and write them down on the board."

Walter took a piece of chalk and started writing with a shaky hand - if she had asked him to write down anything other than math, he probably would have failed; his hand shook too much to write cursive. Alina had anticipated that, which was why she decided to make the first question math and not English or science - it was Walter's strongest point, and he would probably feel better afterwards.

Walter stared at the equations he wrote down, feeling faint. He found out he still couldn't think at all- but he could definitely solve these equations, because he had seen them before.

She gave him that same math problem for homework at least thrice by now.

Walter solved the equations remarkably fast, and as he stepped back to check his answer he noticed for the first time that nobody was giggling anymore.

"Remarkable", Dowling said behind him. "Mind if I give him another?"

"By all means, mister Dowling", Alina smiled.

Dowling gave Walter another set of equations - one he hadn't seen before, but it didn't matter anymore. His brain had already come back to Earth from wherever the hell it was hiding, and now it was going into overdrive. He solved that one, too.

"That isn't right", Dowling said. It was a sentence Walter had heard from him many times, but this time he actually sounded worried and not like he just really wanted to wring his neck.

Walter looked at him, then at the board again, panicking.

"If I may, mr. Dowling", Alina chimed in. "Walter, which letter is that?"

"X", he replied.

"And the other one is Y, then?"

"Yeah."

" _Yes, miss._ " she looked at him sternly, barely concealing a smile.

"Yes, miss. It is."

"In that case, the solution is correct", she proclaimed. "It's just Walter's handwriting that's barely discernible, but handwriting is not what I personally care about in mathematics. Walter, do make more of an effort once we get on with English, alright?"

"Yes, miss." he replied, and a small twitch escaped the corner of his teacher's mouth.

ooo

Alina and Dowling took turns asking Walter questions in math, science and language, even some history and geography, all of which he answered - slowly, unsurely and with long pauses as they switched from one subject to another, but he answered them all and he answered them correctly. After what seemed to Walter like two whole eternities (but was in reality around twenty minutes), Dowling leaned back in his chair, looking begrudgingly impressed as he turned to Alina.

"Miss Borichevic, I have to say, that was impressive."

"I agree", she grinned. "Walter often is."

"It seems, young man, that you have passed your exams", Dowling turned to him. "Has your thinking ability returned yet, or are you still only interested in showcasing your knowledge?"

"I, uh, I think I can think now, sir", Walter stuttered. The audience laughed again, for reasons he didn't really catch.

"In that case, can you tell me how you managed to go from failing all of your classes last December to this, admittedly impressive, display of knowledge and studiousness?"

"I", Walter started. "I just, I studied, I guess?"

"All of a sudden? And what made you so interested in studying?" Dowling pressed.

"I dunno."

"Last Winter I called you into my office, and you said you'd rather die than submit your English homework."

"I still hate English, sir." Walter admitted. "I like math and science. I can survive English, I think. Probably."

"And would you say your new teacher had something to do with it?"

"Yeah. Yes, sir. She's great." Walter fumbled.

"Great? Care to elaborate?"

"She helped me a lot." did he really have to spell it all out? He was at his wits' end already. Couldn't he just go home now?

"If I may, sir", teacher Alina chimed in again behind him, and for a second Dowling looked like he really wanted to roll his eyes before he turned to her and nodded for her to speak for a moment before leaning back in his chair slowly. Alina coughed a little, lazily and confidently with her chin resting on her hand, looking at Walt with proud intensity. She had the look of someone playing chess who already knew they won before the game was over.

"Walter has always been quite smart and eager to study. We simply had to work on some - specific problems with eyesight, that he's had since he was a child. But, in all honesty, this is all his own hard work. I was merely here to show him in the right direction and not let him give up."

"Alright." Dowling gave up on that line of questioning and turned to face Alina, and Walter realized that was the first time he saw him sincerely smiling at anyone. "Perhaps that is true. Nevertheless, I'd say that our role is not to simply pour facts and information that mean nothing into our students' heads, but rather to raise them to do it for themselves. The results are certainly here. Congratulations, mrs. Boričević. You've passed as well. From now on, for all I'm concerned, you're a full-time teacher in the State of New York."

Walter turned to Teacher Alina, surprised to see her put her hands on her blushing cheeks and let out something very close to a squeal. The smug attitude she had only a second earlier was completely gone now that her victory was confirmed with actual, real praise.

"Thank you!" she shook Dowling's hand, looking a bit shocked. Cordial applause echoed through the room, then people slowly stood up to leave as Hank and Sam walked up to Walter to hug him and ruffle his hair.

"I'll be damned, Walt", Hank said to him wearing the first smile Walt had seen on him in months, which wrinkled his dark-rimmed, tired eyes. "I've always known you were smart, but you're _actually_ smart. Great job."

Sam, on the other hand, was visibly exhilarated. "Walt, that was incredible! Wait till we tell mom about this - she'll be thrilled, you'll see! We're all very proud of you!"

 _All of you are?_ Walter thought as he looked around - he couldn't see him, but he was certain he'd be there somewhere; he could feel the presence.

 _Did you like the show, Mister Demon?_

Alina barely registered the parents coming up to her to greet and congratulate and thank her; she gave them her best smile and her rehearsed words, unable to process the world around her as she floated in a cloud of her own victory.

Emily - sweet, uptight Emily who taught Walter's class before her - broke the spell when she came up to her and, in a display completely uncharacteristic for her, hugged her tightly.

"Uh", Alina managed.

"You were wonderful. You're going to be a wonderful teacher," Emily said sincerely, holding her shoulders. "Now, remember to rest over the summer, alright? We'll need you fresh and ready in September."

"I will", Alina laughed. "You, too."

As children slowly left with their parents, Hannah O'Malley left her mother's side and pitterpattered shyly to Alina. After a moment's hesitation, she hugged her as well.

"Goodbye, Miss Boričević. Have a lovely summer."

"Goodbye, Hannah", Alina beamed. "Please, don't study until September. Oh, and take one of the cakes by the door."

"I will, miss."

Some of the other children turned their heads and also joined them and Alina shook their hands, patted their heads, ruffled their hair and told them all the same things - _have a nice summer, have a lot of fun, I'll see you soon -_ but it seemed they all wanted to hear them personally; and finally, when the crowd dispersed she saw in front of her the last little figure.

"Walter", she grinned. "Was it so bad, then?"

"Horrible", he laughed. "I'm a proper teacher's pet, now. You ruined me."

"Oh, don't worry. I think your sassy mouth tipped the scales back to normal," she ruffled his hair as well, and for the first time, he allowed it. "You did a magnificent job this year. Don't ever forget it, alright?"

"I won't forget it,'' Walter said, suddenly serious. "I won't." He stepped over to her and hugged her quickly as well, breaking away after a second. He waved at her awkwardly before running off to join his brothers, who were already counting the loose coins in their pockets and arguing about what to get him as a reward.

He passed a completely unsuspicious shadow on his way and stopped for a moment.

"Congratulations, Walt,'' the shadow said. "That was impressive. And very brave."

"Thanks, mister Demon."

Walter shifted a little on his feet and for a moment Erik thought he'd try to hug him as well. He held out a finger and looked at him sternly.

"Don't you dare", he warned quietly.

Walter grinned at him, running along.

ooo

A few days later, Erik finally decided to confess to Jack that he did, in fact, think about last winter's proposal to get him into music. Walter's courage simultaneously inspired and shamed him; and so he asked Jack to follow him to the small theater in downtown Manhattan - just to stroll through it, and perhaps see if Jack knew anybody who could help in getting them to talk to the managers, or the conductor. Alina, of course, offered to follow along and so the three of them walked through the sleepy streets of New York one very sunny, hot afternoon, only days before Amelija was supposed to arrive. For someone who was supposed to maybe get a chance to try himself at what he loved doing the most - or at least talk to people who shared the same passion - Jack thought Erik looked far, far too miserable and anxious.

They walked on in uncharacteristic silence, unsure what to do about Erik's mood. Alina was just thinking of something to say to lift their spirits, when Jack did it instead.

„Have you always worn this mask?" Jack asked with curiosity. Alina wondered if that would set off some flame, but Erik just shook his head.

„This one? No, of course not. My head has grown since I was a child. And I do need to wash them regularly."

"Oh, you have several identical ones? If you don't mind me asking this."

"I don't mind. The mask itself is just a piece of leather. I have several white ones and a black one, but I haven't worn that one in a long time."

"Why white? If you're always wearing all black?"

Erik scratched his chin a little bit. "I wear all black because it goes unnoticed easily, especially at night. But people expect something closer to skin tone in this general area," he gestured at his head, "and so black actually draws _more_ attention. I even tried making a flesh-toned one, but I thought it looked horrifying. I don't know why. White just works better."

„It sounds strange, hearing about the logistics of wearing a mask everyday."

„It's easier when you think about it like wearing eyeglasses", Erik's mouth twitched slightly upwards. „Even if the effect is… kind of the opposite."

"I actually wore eyeglasses when I was little," Jack said.

"Really?"

"Yes, I think I was maybe eight. They were expensive, too. My eyes were- I don't know, I'm not a doctor. All I know is it got better on its own around the time I started growing. Around fifteen."

"Really?"

"I'm told it's not that uncommon. Actually, around the same time, another boy I knew got them as well, maybe a week before me. That was interesting."

"How so?" Erik turned to him.

"Because he was incredibly embarrassed by them, and so everyone teased him for it - except for me, of course, because I knew it was coming for me too. They wouldn't stop calling him four-eyes and trying to snatch them away. They drove him to tears once."

"Unsurprising", Erik mumbled to himself.

"Anyway, I noticed that, so when I got mine, I put them on my head right away and ran off to play. Other kids saw me and turned to me, like vultures smelling prey. It was almost theatrical. You know what I did?"

"No?"

"I turned to the nearest boy and yelled, _hey, check out these prissy glasses I have to wear! They're so ridiculous! I'll bet you a nickel you can't put them on without fainting!_ And of course, the fool took the bait - hook, line and sinker. Before you knew it, everyone was fascinated. They fought to try them on, and they all laughed with me as I cracked jokes at my expense. And two days later, everyone forgot about it. Nobody has ever called me four-eyes in my life, not after I called myself four-eyes on the first day. In fact, if somebody had, it would have made _him_ look stupid. What's the appeal in teasing someone over something they don't care about at all?"

Erik walked on, looking ahead in dead silence, while Alina laughed. "I think you and I would've been friends as children."

"Not really, princess. I didn't make friends with gals back then."

"You little chauvinist. I can pack a punch. I was useful in fights, or so I'm told."

"And where is that alleged strength now? You can't sleep on your laurels forever, you know. You should either agree to spar with me or stop this false advertising -" Jack's voice echoed through the sunlit streets happily as they neared the site of Erik's worst fears.

„I can see why you like this place", Jack rambled on when they stopped in front of the venue. „It's definitely interesting, I think it suits- " he turned to Erik and realized he was talking to thin air. Erik had vanished in the split second he wasn't looking. „Son of a- !"

Alina snickered from his other side.

„What in the hell is he doing?" he turned to her. „Is this some kind of joke? One of your pranks? I certainly hope you haven't been toying with me after all the effort I was willing to go through to make this possible" _, you juvenile idiots,_ he almost finished.

„ _Our_ pranks? No, it's not a prank", she hurried. „Not that I know of, and I can't imagine it being so. He's scared."

„Scared?" Jack raised an eyebrow.

„I've come here with Erik at least five times already. He buys tickets for concerts but then we sneak into the corridors and listen to them behind the stage", she admitted. „He's never even sat in a proper seat as a guest and let them see him, let alone spoken to the musicians. He's scared."

„And all this talk about how he would do anything to be a musician?"

„Oh, he definitely would. But talk is easy, and doing things takes time. It's all good when it's in your head", she explained. „The fact he wants it so badly only makes it worse. He has more to lose if they reject him, and he knows it. He's scared that no matter how much he tries, how hard he works for it, they'll still reject him. Can you understand that? Haven't you ever felt as if you were broken by design, and all effort will only lead to humiliation?"

„No", Jack shrugged.

„How disgustingly well-adjusted your life must be", Alina grimaced. „In any case, I'm certain he'll come around. But you might have to be patient. I don't know when he'll finally decide to do it, but I'm sure it will be when we least expect it. He has a penchant for drama, that man."

ooo

When Alina arrived home later that day, Erik was already there, reading a book as he waited for her.

"Hello", she said cheerfully.

He looked up and smiled shyly at her as if he expected her to comment on his sudden disappearance, so she instinctively decided not to comment.

"What are you reading?"

" _Self-reliance,_ by Emerson. Jack gave it to me a few days ago, said I should experience some _New World culture_ , as he put it." he paused.

"Is it good?"

"It's interesting." he flipped through a few pages back. "I don't think you'd agree with all of it. But this bit is quite interesting. _We but half express ourselves, and are ashamed of that divine idea which each of us represents. It may be safely trusted as proportionate and of good issues, so it be faithfully imparted, but God will not have his work made manifest by cowards. A man is relieved and gay when he has put his heart into his work and done his best; but what he has said or done otherwise, shall give him no peace. It is a deliverance which does not deliver. In the attempt his genius deserts him; no muse befriends; no invention, no hope._ "

"Well said."

"Is Jack angry with me?" Erik closed the book slowly.

"No. I think he understands." she paused. "It would still be better if you talked to him yourself."

"Well, _God will not have his work made manifest by cowards_ , so I probably should." he tapped his fingers on the book slowly. "I'm sorry for dragging you two along."

"I like being dragged along places", Alina smiled. "Have you been manifesting any new God's work lately?" she sat next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes as he started running his fingers through her hair.

"No", she heard him reply. Something in his voice didn't resonate quite right, and her first impulse would have been to turn around and ask him why - but she simply kept her eyes closed, and waited a few more seconds in silence.

"I haven't been… composing,'' he continued. "I can't right now."

"No?" she finally gave in and turned to see him looking intently at the paper stars hanging from the ceiling. "How come?"

"I don't know."

"Since when?"

"A few weeks, perhaps,'' he said in an impressively monotonous voice.

"Are you, like Emerson, concerned with what other people might think?"

"No", he said forcefully. "A little."

"That's quite normal."

"Mhm."

"I, for one, think you're no less of a genius for it."

"Have you ever stopped to think _why_ I'm so good at the few things I can do?" he asked, looking at the ceiling again.

Alina raised her eyebrows.

"Because that's all I ever did. Every single thought and emotion I had for years went into it. I spent years, decades, pouring myself into music as if it was my only salvation, while the rest of you were out saving each other." he paused. "I've never given other people thought. I didn't think I should. I thought art I created was enough to make me a man. I had to think so, since I had nothing else."

Alina waited a little more.

"If I was wrong, and it's not enough, I don't know what to do."

"It's not enough,'' she said gently. "Nothing is ever perfect. There is no _one thing_ that can make you human enough."

"I know that now." he looked at her again. "I don't know what to do."

"Other things." she smiled. "It's alright to do other things too. Whatever you want."

"And then what? What will be enough?" he looked at her. "You've done many other things. Which of them was enough?"

"None of them. I'm starting to think maybe not being enough was what made me human all this time."

END OF CHAPTER 24

 _A/N: I'd like to end this chapter with a short essay (if you can call it that) on Erik's disfigurement and what it means to him and people around him, because I read Emerson's essay for this chapter and now y'all have to suffer as well (as it turns out, I like essays). I couldn't jam it in the novel itself because I thought it would sound awkward. I personally thought, when writing this, that a disfigurement so severe that he has to wear a mask at all times and feels crippling anxiety so severe he can't stand being around people should be written from his perspective as a disability rather than a cosmetic concern, even if only for the way it shaped his life and people's reactions to him (similar to Walter's dyslexia, it would probably not be as big of a deal today, but it does make his life harder in very noticeable ways). It's there and it's undeniable; and saying he could ever simply pretend it doesn't exist or isn't a big deal to him doesn't sound very realistic to me. Erik feels bad talking about it with Alina, because he loves her and deep down he doesn't want her to think he's very different from her. He's more comfortable, sometimes, discussing it with Jack because Jack instinctively realizes how he feels about it and treats it as such, and Erik just doesn't mind if Jack finds him different. Jack, on the other hand, has lived his life believing the only things he can always count on are his own body and mind. Having met a large number of people in his life, some of whom were also disabled, ill or disfigured, he feels tremendous respect for those who function in life even though they can't count on their body and mind sometimes; even though he's ready to admit he doesn't understand how it feels. He's curious about Erik's life and treats his disfigurement as something of an obstacle he has to work around rather than a defining trait of his personality, and Erik can sense that even if he never verbalizes it. Jack has never seen Erik's face and likely never will because he will never ask to see it after seeing Erik's reaction when Jack asked him why he wears a mask back when they were drunk together. It's not a big deal to him and he doesn't feel the need to tiptoe around Erik and his peculiarities, nor does he have the patience to walk on eggshells and treat him with particular sensitivity in most situations. He is however curious how someone different from him lives his daily life, and has no problems asking it; it's in his nature to want to demystify things and accept them as just another occurrence in the world he hasn't seen before. Erik is used to his face being mystified and tiptoed around - Jack's open and no-nonsense attitude often catches him off guard and so he doesn't react in the way he normally would. This also works because they're friends; if someone else asked him it would still be inappropriate and he would be understandably offended. Their friendship is based on mutual respect and while Jack doesn't put up with any of Erik's bullshit with the patience Alina and Jana would show (which is also the reason Erik doesn't usually seek him out in his most vulnerable moments), he shows respect for the ways in which his life was difficult and how it may have affected him. Alina is much more emotional and reacts strongly to others' suffering even though she always pretends to be calm, and while Erik wants her to understand him and knows by now she wouldn't pity or judge him, he knows her well enough to be aware that the things he says affect her - and that can also make it harder, because while he really wants empathy and validation from her he can't stand to see her sad. (Not to mention the dynamic of romantic relationships back then, which puts an additional pressure on him to act as a normal man courting a woman he loves). Jana is a different story entirely - she's the only one who doesn't give a damn at all about people's peculiarities nor does she actually notice them that much, because she is herself quite peculiar and does not ascribe any value to the concepts of "normal" and "strange" - she's always been strange and everyone in her home has always simply treated it as normal, so deep down she thinks that's how the world works, even if she consciously knows that's not true. If she ever sees Erik's face she will_ know _why it's different, but it will simply not_ feel _different to her from seeing a normal face._

 _At least that's the way I see it, but I don't myself have any kind of disability so what I know is based on other people's experiences. If you find any of this unrealistic or offensive feel free to comment or message me and correct my ignorant ways; I will greatly appreciate it as someone who is often in the position of meeting or working with people who have illnesses or disabilities._


	25. Arrival

Amelija looked at the terminal as the ship docked with her suitcase in her hand and a heavy load in her heart. Nikola noticed it, of course, and her increasing moodiness as they approached New York was starting to grate on his nerves. Amelija was normally so good at evading her unpleasant feelings and weaknesses; but this was not something she could, or wanted to, evade and so she was left trying to process them - which she was decidedly _not_ good at. Nikola silently prayed for the sanity of her hosts in the future weeks.

"It'll be fine", he said. "She'll be delighted to see you."

"Of course she will", Amelija frowned. "Why wouldn't she be?"

Nikola shrugged, having absolutely no intention to comment on that.

It seemed like forever, but the ship finally docked and pulled down its ramps for them to descend. Nikola helped Amelija with her suitcase as she looked around for a familiar figure in the crowd. She had no idea why her heart was beating so fast. Her sister would not actually leave her alone in a foreign land; she'd definitely be here. The reason she couldn't see her must have been because of the crowd, or because the bright sun was shining into her eyes, or because this foreign, unnatural, unfamiliar landscape with skyscrapers was so distracting -

"Amelija!" she heard a voice in the crowd she'd recognize anywhere and anytime. She turned around, seeing Alina pushing through the crowd with impressive force, strands of hair dancing around her excited face. She looked exactly as she remembered her, apart from the fact her usual, _boring_ clothes were now gone in place of a very gentle-looking, pale olive-green dress that even had white lace on the bodice and sleeves. Without thinking, Amelija dropped down her suitcase and ran with open arms towards her sister.

They clashed with alarming intensity as Alina laughed loudly and attempted to pull her up like when they were children; she only managed to knock the air out of Amelija's lungs and raise her off the ground half an inch.

"You're weak", Amelija laughed.

"Maybe you're heavy", she heard a reply. Alina let her go and before Amelija withdrew her arms, her fingers felt for two little metal points on the back of Alina's head and she swiftly pulled out two silver hairpins from her hair, sending it cascading down her back.

"Those are mine!" she hissed, holding them in front of Alina's face.

"You never wear them", Alina protested, holding her hair down against the wind.

"No? Maybe because they got lost halfway across the world?" she looked at her for a moment. "You look much better without them, anyway. You've even stopped dressing so matronly."

"You look the same", Alina replied. "Welcome to America."

Nikola strolled slowly towards them, stopping to pick up Amelija's suitcase.

"Alina," he smiled as he kissed Alina's cheek. "It's good to see you again. You look lovely."

Alina looked at him like a dream she had as a kid just came true. "Nikola! I didn't know you were coming! Oh, I was afraid I'd never see you again!"

"I'm everywhere", he winked. "I made sure your sister got here safely, and now I have to go."

"You're not staying? Maybe just for dinner?"

"No, no, I have a train to catch. I'll let you two make up for lost time, and I might drop by before I leave for Europe again," he smiled. "I'm sure you'll have plenty to do in the next few weeks."

Amelija offered the pins back to Alina, who fastened her hair back into an updo before she caused a scandal. Alina pointed Amelija to the direction where their carriage was waiting, and took her suitcase so Amelija could stretch and look around. The land was foreign, and people's faces looked foreign in some way Amelija could never explain. The air smelled differently, and even the sun in the sky was slightly… off. She looked around with interest while walking along next to her sister.

As soon as they reached the carriage a tall, thin, masked man dressed head-to-toe in black came out quickly, nodding at Amelija and holding his hand out to take her suitcase; Amelija opened her mouth when she handed it to him, but he simply turned around to put it on the top of the carriage. His right arm gave out slightly as he raised the suitcase above his head; weak from some old injury or general nervousness, Amelija didn't know. He stumbled for a moment, then secured the suitcase with straps and climbed down. He looked straight at Alina and asked quietly, "Can we go?"

"Let's,"she said nonchalantly switching over to English, as if it were the most normal thing and a stranger did not just completely ignore any politeness and decorum and pretend Amelija didn't exist. He entered back into the carriage as quickly as he came out, Alina following as she smiled and signaled the driver to take them back. Amelija stood still in shock for a moment, then snapped out of it and followed them into the dimly-lit carriage.

She sat next to Alina, both she and the stranger eager to be as far away from each other as possible. Alina didn't seem bothered by it as she spoke cheerfully. They looked to her like two threatened cats who met in an alley.

"Amelija, meet Erik. We came here together and have been together since", a sweet little smile escaped her mouth as she spoke, "Erik, this is my sister Amelija. She likes traveling and adventures, so I'm certain she'll enjoy staying with us."

Amelija didn't actually know what to say or how to introduce herself to this strange apparition, taken aback by his rude behavior and unapproachable appearance; for the first time in a long time she felt at a loss for what to do.

Her discomfort lasted only for a second because Alina looked at Erik, conveying some pre-communicated message Amelija didn't know, and he bowed his head slightly at her.

"Hello."

"Glad to meet you", Amelija managed something resembling a smile. Gentlemen normally took her hand to greet her properly, but she felt thankful this time when that didn't happen and the man remained sitting still in his own corner, his arms crossed with both his hands hidden.

"Likewise", Erik replied very quietly, taking care not to move. He felt somewhat bitter seeing sudden fear on her face where he could see joy and arrogance through the carriage window just a minute earlier. His first instinct would have been to get angry about it and leave, but he did, after all, promise only to meet her for one day; he'd have to endure it. _I'll live._

"Now that _that's_ settled,'' Alina said looking more than a little amused by what was to them an incredibly grave situation, "we should take care of the important things first. Amelija, do you eat vegetables now, or are you still an idiot?"

" _You're_ an idiot", Amelija grumbled automatically.

"I'll take that as a 'no'. There's fish and potatoes with mangold for dinner, but since you're an idiot feel free to pick out the mangold. I'm not going to make separate potatoes; you're an adult now."

Amelija turned to her, completely forgetting about the masked man for a second. "Excuse me? Is this your idea of hospitality? Do you want me to write a letter to mama and tell her you're starving me?"

"Go ahead", Alina retorted. "Tell her you still don't eat mangold. See how she reacts."

"What's another nail in her coffin after everything you've put her through?" Amelija rolled her eyes. A ray of sunshine broke through the curtains illuminating them, and Erik could see they were a lot less like Alina's than he'd thought - instead of a warm, forgiving brown, they had a sharp and cold hazel-green color. The likeness he saw before dissipated immediately.

Alina grinned. "What doesn't kill her makes her stronger. How have you been, Amelija? How was your trip?"

"It would've been boring if it wasn't for Nikola", Amelija admitted. "Other than the fact that I met someone who claims to know you. Did you, by any chance, meet a blonde-haired teenage sailor about a year and a half ago? Thick accent? Slightly annoying?"

"Desmond?" Alina's eyes widened, and so did the masked man's. "You met Desmond? How is he? Is he still with Vanessa?"

"If Vanessa is his fiance, then yes."

"Oh, my goodness", Alina laughed. "Desmond! I haven't thought about him in months, so many things happened! Do you remember him?" she looked over at Erik, who smiled, seemingly relaxing only a little.

"Now that she said 'slightly annoying', it does ring a bell."

"Ha!" Alina snorted, beaming. "Desmond! The world is so small! I'm so glad he's doing alright!"

"Mhm", Amelija decided not to mention Desmond told her about having smuggled them to New York without passing border control - but the man seemed to catch on to that, as he looked at her carefully. She didn't like it.

"Oh, my, Amelija, I haven't seen you in _such_ a long time! How have you been? What do you do these days?" Alina turned to her again.

"I manage our finances and estate", Amelija replied. "Other than that, I study. I party. It's all the same as it was, really."

"What are you studying these days?" Alina asked with interest.

"Philosophy."

"Oh? I never went much into philosophy. I always had the idea it was just a lot of lonely old men talking about how smart they are."

"You know, I like philosophy, but you're not wrong", Amelija chuckled.

ooo

Alina stormed out of the carriage to unlock the front door with Amelija following and Erik politely taking her suitcase behind them. Amelija looked around, taking in the place she suddenly found herself in. The house was indeed quite small, and it looked like it had gone through some changes recently. They somehow managed to divide it into three sections - the front door led straight into a little kitchen/living room/dining room, with two doors leading into what Amelija assumed were bedroom and study. The third door in the corner led to a small bathroom. The kitchen was tidy - Alina had been well disciplined by mrs. Bigley in London to keep her workspaces clean and neat. The living room part had a table with some chairs, and a few comfortable armchairs as well as a small bookshelf that already held some books Alina must have bought after she moved. Fresh flowers stood on the table, and walls were decorated with some pictures and embroidery. It looked so… warm. It was a modest, but loving home; Amelija didn't know what she expected or how she felt about it.

"You can freshen up there, but let me show you your room first", Alina gestured towards the door on the right.

"I have a question first."

"Yes?"

"When did you learn to make these damned paper stars on the ceiling? You were terrible at it last time I saw you." Amelija pointed up.

Alina blinked in surprise and Erik stiffened behind her, until Alina burst into laughter.

"Chalk it up to personal development", Alina ran her hand down her face. She cast a quick glance behind her shoulder, and Erik shrugged, _do what you want,_ so she continued. "Anyway, Erik made most of these."

"Really? Your patience is impressive." Amelija turned to Erik, who shrugged again.

"Your sister made me believe they were important to her, because they reminded her of her family."

"Ah. I see. Family is important to Alina", Amelija gave her a very sharp grin. Erik didn't like it one bit, but he thought it best to stay silent for now.

Amelija dumped her things on the floor of her room, ruffled her hair and kicked off her shoes, deciding this was comfortable enough and any further unpacking would be postponed until she can actually be arsed to do it. She took a pack of cards and a small package and went back into the living room; she sat by the table and was just about to start talking when she was interrupted by soft tapping on the front door.

"We're not expecting anyone", Alina looked over to Erik. "Are we? Did I forget something?"

"I don't think so. It's probably Yana."

"Yana?" Amelija asked.

"She's our best friend here", Alina said smiling brightly. "You'll love her!"

"Ah", Amelija replied, smiling back not brightly at all. She wasn't so sure she'd love someone who was apparently Alina's _best friend_ , seeing as Alina already had a _best friend_ and it was -

Alina opened the door to reveal a very small, frail-looking woman with nearly-white blonde hair.

"Oh", she said. "Oh, your sister is here already. Sorry. I'll see you after work, I just wanted to ask -"

"I'll be there", Erik said, getting up.

"No need, really, have fun. I'll ask Svetlana - " she started, but he gave her a very particular look, and she smiled slightly and gave him her keys. "Thank you. Please don't let him draw on the walls."

"Unbelievable", Erik's mouth twitched upwards. "How long will you keep stifling his creative spirit? Does divine inspiration mean nothing to you?"

"I'll divine inspire you to scrub my walls, so don't let him draw on them", she tilted her head up to look him in the eyes, poking his shoulder.

"Traitor of the arts", he smiled at her and turned to Alina. "I'll be over, watching Piotr."

"Bring him here, if you want,'' she said.

"Maybe later. You two can catch up, I'm sure you'll have plenty to talk about." He nodded at Amelija, and looked at Alina like he wanted to say something, but he quickly closed his mouth and nodded again. Amelija didn't understand what on Earth that was about, but Alina stood up suddenly.

"Oh, wait, I'll see you out. I forgot something at Yana's house anyway. I'll be back in a second."

She left promptly, leaving Amelija alone with an unknown woman before she could say anything.

"I'm Amelija, nice to meet you", she offered her hand and smiled weakly.

"I know. I'm Yana. I heard a lot about you." the woman shook her hand calmly and smiled at her in a way that reminded Amelija of those pictures of kind, forgiving angels in her childhood books. "Alina talks how she misses you all the time."

"Ah." slightly taken aback, she politely waited for the woman to start some sort of conversation, but Yana was apparently much more comfortable with silence than Amelija, who broke after mere seconds.

"I don't understand anything that's going on with these two,'' she admitted. She had no idea how she was comfortable admitting it to someone she just met. "Are things here always like this?"

Yana smiled. "No, usually much worse."

"Oh God." she rubbed her temples.

"Don't worry. You get used to it." Yana smiled a little wider. "How long will you stay?"

"I don't know. A few weeks? Maybe some more? Depends, really." Amelija shrugged.

"Ah. Good. I'll see you often, then. You can come by if you want", she nodded and turned around just in time to get through the door as Alina opened it and came back in. _Just how is this all being orchestrated? It's like a complex play I'm watching unfold, with everyone knowing exactly what the others will do and when. Do these people read each others' minds, or have I become deaf?_

Alina closed the door, then looked around shyly.

"Can I offer you anything, Amelija?" she switched immediately back to Croatian. People switching language amongst themselves at will was also something Amelija would have to get used to so she wouldn't start speaking the wrong tongue to the wrong person; she considered drawing herself a cheat sheet.

"Yes, I'd like some wine and sweets."

"No dinner?" Alina raised an eyebrow.

"I can have dinner later. I have something for you", she announced, holding the package up. "Mom and dad sent gifts."

"Oh!"

"And some of it is from me, too."

"Thank you!" Alina took the package excitedly, starting to unwrap it then setting it down. "Actually, let me get you your snacks first. Sit down." she took out a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a platter full of cookies that she put in front of Amelija.

"Will you open it already?"

"Yes, yes," Alina threw herself wholeheartedly into ripping the paper as efficiently as possible and then gasped.

"I didn't remember it wrong?" Amelija snickered. "You still like coffee, right?"

Alina held out the coffee packet in the air with both hands like it was a king's long-expected firstborn son.

"REAL coffee!"

"There's more things."

"Can they measure with _real coffee?_ Have you any idea how deprived I've been?" Alina put the coffee back down and looked at the little photograph that was hiding beneath it. Two people stood hugging each other, well-dressed and proud, smiling smugly back at her. Amelija and Nikola.

"Oh." she held it close to her face, her eyes getting slightly glassy. "Is this…"

"From Nikola's doctorate ceremony", Amelija nodded. "He took us out to dinner later."

"I'm so sorry I missed it", Alina said, looking at the picture. "That haircut suits you well."

"Every haircut suits me well. Get to the real stuff already, I can't stand you sniveling over this picture."

"You mean this?" Amelija held up the earrings - beautiful golden things, with deep-red, tear-shaped garnets hanging from them.

"That one's from mom. She said you asked her if you could have them when you were little."

"I remember", Alina said. "She said I could have them when I get married."

"Well, apparently she loosened up a bit. Look at the other stuff."

Alina dug through the _other stuff -_ a beautiful leather-bound journal from her father, a delicate silk scarf from Amelija, and a little glass bottle the size of her palm from Nikola, with dry yellow flowers inside.

"Are those…"

"Yes, immortelle." Amelija raised her eyebrows. "He said you shouldn't forget what home smells like."

Alina pulled the cork off the glass bottle and sniffed.

"Oh, my god."

She was _definitely_ sniveling now.

"Oh, dear." she sobbed. "I… I'm sorry, I didn't expect this. I haven't been home for so long - this - brings back -"

Amelija looked at her for a moment before interrupting her. "Immortelle doesn't wilt. You can always come back home, always. Remember that. Alright?"

Alina nodded, looking at the flowers.

"Do you remember how to play briscola?" Amelija started shuffling cards, in lack of better things to do. She couldn't stand this emotional display for too long.

"I know how, I'm just not very good."

"That'll do. I like winning."

ooo

After having expectedly won a few games Amelija heard a loud bang on the door that startled her, followed by a quiet "softer, Piotr, softer" as Alina hurried to open it. Standing in the doorway Amelija saw Erik standing behind a small boy, around four years old, with pale blonde hair and some sort of toy in his hands. The boy said "Hi!" to Alina excitedly and then ran past her straight into the room, climbing on the seat next to Amelija. Erik looked at Alina and shrugged.

"Yana's back, but he insisted he would not be able to sleep until he met the lady from across the world. I'll take him back soon."

Amelija looked at the kid sitting next to her and smiled a little, unsure how to talk to a boy so young. The boy grinned at her confidently, as if she was going to break into song or do something extraordinary right before his eyes.

"Hello", she said.

"Erik says you're Alina's sister,'' Piotr said, speaking in surprisingly clear English.

"He's right."

"You're very pretty", he went on cheerfully. "Did you get here on a ship?"

"I did."

"I got here on a ship. With mama. But I was a baby and I don't remember it", he continued. "Do you remember it? How was it?"

"I do." Amelija laughed. "Well, a bit boring, to be honest. But my cousin was with me, so he kept me company."

"Does the sea go on forever? Erik said the sea goes on forever. He says it looks like a desert made of blue glass."

"It does look like that", Amelija had to admit she liked the comparison.

"Did you see any mermaids?"

"Sadly, no."

"Are _you_ a mermaid?" he asked suspiciously. "I won't tell anyone."

"You can't ask her that." Erik said, sitting across from them.

Amelija looked at him curiously, secretly relieved that someone was taking over.

"Why noooot?" Piotr turned to him, annoyed.

"Because you just met her. You can ask people to tell you secrets only if you know them well." He smiled slightly at him. Amelija suddenly noticed that no matter how loudly Piotr was talking, Erik kept his voice soft and low.

"Maybe tomorrow?" Piotr turned back.

"Mmmmmaybe," Amelija pouted, playing along. "If you really win me over." Erik looked at her, his icy demeanor from before cracking just a little bit.

"I guess you have to sleep now, so tomorrow comes sooner", Erik said to the boy.

"Fine", Piotr said with all the annoyance of a child aware he was being played, and obediently hopped off the chair. "My mama's here anyway."

Erik followed him out, handing him over to Yana who already waited in front of the door, having very little faith in Erik's ability to put him in bed on time. She bid them goodnight cheerfully as she lifted Piotr up in her arms and promptly left. Erik announced he was tired and would keep them company tomorrow, excused himself and left to his room without another word. The whole theater, it seemed, was over for today.

ooo

"Možemo mi pričati po naški, ili si ga već zaboravila?" Amelija turned to Alina as he locked the door, preparing herself for a conversation she was not eager to have, but would have to anyway. It was better if nobody understood them, even if the chance of them hearing it was slim.

"Idi kvragu, Amelija", Alina laughed back.

"Good to see you're still yourself", Amelija continued in Croatian. "How have you been?"

Alina looked ahead for a moment with a slightly dreamy glint in her eyes. "It's hard to explain, you know?" she cast a glance at the paper stars on the ceiling. "So many things have happened. I think I've changed a lot. I don't fully understand what direction my life is going, but I'm eager to find out. It's going somewhere, that's for sure."

"Are you happy?" Amelija decided to cut straight to the point. "Here?" she gestured around her, hoping Alina would get the implication of 'here'.

"Yes", she turned to her, a little surprised by her questions. "Have I ever stayed somewhere where I didn't want to be?"

 _That_ certainly stung, but Amelija didn't let it show. "You know, mama and tata would take you back if you decided to return. In case all of this didn't work out."

"Did they tell you to tell me this?" Alina raised her eyebrows in annoyance. "That they'd take me back with my tail behind my legs if I failed? Thank you, but it won't be necessary. Has it ever occured to any of you I might _not_ fail? Is it so hard to believe that I might know what I'm doing, and be capable of succeeding?"

"It's not just that", Amelija said. "I don't speak for mama and tata, nor do I put as much importance in their opinion as you do."

"I don't -"

"Oh, for God's sake, Alina, if you didn't then you wouldn't be so angry right now. Stop insulting my intelligence. You had to cross the Atlantic so you could pretend you don't care about their opinion, and you know what, that's fine." Amelija felt herself also getting annoyed, against her own will. "Your choice of company is strange, and I don't really understand it, but that's also fine. You're allowed to stay _where you want to be,_ as you have so eloquently put it, I just wanted to make sure you're safe."

"I'm safe, and there's nothing wrong with my choice of company", Alina replied stubbornly. "And maybe if you could get your nose out of the clouds -"

"Excuse me?" Amelija interrupted her, raising her voice only slightly in fear that she might be heard through the thick wooden door. " _My_ nose is in the clouds? After I crossed half the world to see you, after all this? After you proclaimed you were too good for your country and your family, and decided never to see us again? After you left _me_ all alone with them?" She spat out the last sentence before she could stop herself, and crossed her arms angrily, looking ahead. She wasn't going to say that.

Alina, on the other hand, looked at her like she just saw the sun for the first time.

"I'm so stupid", she said softly, shaking her head. "I understand now. Why didn't you say so before? All these years?"

"Would you have come back?" Amelija hissed at her.

Alina thought for a moment. "No. I don't think I'm too good for it. But there is no place for me there, and you know that."

"Then it would not have made any difference."

"It would have made all the difference, Amelija", Alina waved her hands impatiently. "It makes all the difference in the world whether you tell people honestly how you feel! How many times do I have to repeat that? Mama and tata are fools, yes, but _you_ are smart enough to understand it!"

"Don't you dare tell me what I'm like!" Alina hissed again, standing up straighter. "You haven't seen me in years! You have nothing to know about me!"

"Yes, and now you're here, and I feel like a lost piece of my heart has returned to me! I can't wait to get to know you again!" Alina crossed her arms in front of her, looking at Amelija defiantly.

Amelija frowned back at her, fuming silently. "You win this one, you manipulative bitch." she leaned back in her chair, mirroring Alina's crossed arms. For a moment, neither of them said anything, both pouting silently and looking in opposite directions.

"Your _darling_ is very rude to me", Amelija mumbled.

"Yes, I know. He doesn't mean to be, he just wasn't raised the same way we were." Alina puffed. "Give him a few days, he'll relax."

"Fair enough." A more open talk about Alina's strange companion would have to wait some more; Amelija really didn't have any energy right now to show any more goddamn _emotions._

"Amelija", Alina said. "I really, really want you to enjoy yourself here, alright? I'll take you out tomorrow, and we'll go sightseeing. I'll buy you dinner somewhere fancy. We could go see a play, or something. Whatever you want."

"I haven't been to the theater in a while."

"See, we could do that. You also really have to see the city, it's impressive."

"Alright."

"It's getting late. We should go to bed or you won't have any energy tomorrow."

"Fine", Amelija stood up and went to her room, stopping for a moment. "I'm sleeping in your room? Where will you be?"

"The bed is big enough for us both, but if you want privacy, I could sleep in the other room", she gestured to the _other_ room, smiling shyly. "Well, unless Erik fell asleep with his door locked, in which case, tough luck."

Amelija laughed. "Remember when we were kids visiting aunties? How they'd always cram us in the same room?"

"Oh, I remember", Alina grinned. "I remember you taking up the entire double bed and pushing me off while I slept."

"That was one time! _You,_ on the other hand, _always_ took all of the blankets to wrap yourself in, like a giant selfish pancake!"

Alina spread her arms wide. "To soften my fall when you threw me off the bed."

"Fine, you can sleep here, so I can have my chance at revenge." Amelija turned around and left for her room to change. Alina, having another thought, went to Erik's door and knocked lightly to wish him goodnight. She waited, but no answer came.

He probably really was already asleep with the door locked.

Alina turned around and went to her room, throwing herself on the bed next to Amelija and falling asleep immediately.


	26. Family

_Paris, 1893, a few weeks before the Opera Ghost scandal_

 _Antoinette's voice was never exactly "soft" or "easy to ignore" in the first place, but she shouted, to be precise, really screamed - approximately once or twice every decade, and every time she did, someone would end up severely traumatized. She was very close to it now, and the young man she was currently speaking to would definitely end up traumatized by it. It wouldn't matter if it did the trick - Antoinette was desperate to try and dissuade him by any means necessary from this incredibly, insanely twisted plan. The young man, looking at her with feverish, glassy, darting eyes didn't seem to listen to her._

" _Helping her doesn't give you the right to control her. She has the right to choose what to do with her life." Antoinette said sternly. "People have the right to love who they love!"_

" _Yes, people", he spat out bitterly as his fingers tapped some frantic, unsteady rhythm. "And I am somehow magically, miraculously, exempt from that category!"_

" _You're not!" Antoinette pointed an angry finger at him. "You are a person, and you have the responsibility to act like one!"_

" _Responsibility?" Erik raised his voice as he stood up and started pacing around furiously. "What responsibility? The only responsibility I've ever had was to not make anyone's life miserable! To exist as little as possible in the eyes of others! What responsibility are you even speaking of? I have precisely zero capability, or opportunity, to do anything good!"_

 _Antoinette felt a sharp pang in her heart, but she was not so easily out-voiced, and she opened her mouth again to retort -_

" _Let me speak, Antoinette! You know I'm right!" he thundered. He also noticed his fingers twitching again, but he ignored it. "Is this really a life, do you think, of a normal man? Do you find it fair to lecture me about responsibility, when life has given me nothing in return for my last decade of so-called good behaviour? Is my quiet, non-disruptive life going to get me out of this goddamn hell? Is it going to weed the rot out of me?" he stopped to look at her, forcing the black spots out of focus. "I have done everything you have ever asked of me. I have spent the past eleven years pretending, for your sake, that I was simply a mirage content with roaming around undisturbed. But I can't go on like this any longer. I won't be a ghost anymore. I don't care if I turn into a monster instead, as long as I can say I existed at all!"_

" _I would have helped you, if you'd wanted it. You know that. It wasn't me who wanted you to be a mirage in the walls." Antoinette looked at him thoughtfully, lowering her voice. "This isn't like you. The man I knew wouldn't do this. And I won't let you do it, no matter how much I love you."_

 _He stopped to look at her. Seeing the fury and disappointment on Antoinette's face cracked a hairline crack in Erik's heart from the top straight to the bottom, one that he would never fully heal from or forget. He didn't let it show at all._

 _The next words, uncharacteristically calm and calculated for him, were carefully chosen to drive the knife back into her own heart. "Love me? You left me here, Antoinette. No, you didn't mean to, but you moved on with your life. As everyone does. And I stay here." he paused. "The man you knew has reached his limit. Perhaps it's time for him to die, one way or another."_

" _If that is true, he will be missed." Antoinette turned around on her heel and started walking away with feigned determination. It was the hardest thing she'd ever done - but she had to stand her ground. She knew it. She told herself so, as she struggled not to let tears stream down her cheeks._

 _Erik looked after her, still and stiff as a board, until she was out of sight. The last bridge that connected him to his heart and mind had just burned, and he could already see black spots in the corner of his vision spreading as the rot grew bolder and more powerful._

 _July 1895, Coney Island_

Alina woke up early to the grey sky outside that waited like empty canvas for the sun to spill its red and yellow paint over it. She heard some faint rustling from the other room, but no voices. Amelija still slept soundly next to her, wrapped up to her nose in the same blanket she claimed Alina would steal from her. It was too warm to sleep under blankets, but Amelija wasn't very bothered by it. Alina got up and left the room, thinking for a minute before she finally knocked again.

No answer.

"Erik, are you inside?"

No answer.

"Erik?"

"Yes, I'm here."

Not willing to play along with this waiting game anymore, she opened the door.

"Are you avoiding me?" she smiled to Erik lying on the bed in near-darkness, still in his clothes. He looked like he hadn't really slept much. His curtains were almost always drawn across his windows; but even so, she saw a glint of white leather on his face.

"No." well, to be fair, the door was no longer locked at least.

Alina was going to ask _then do you mind me joining you_ but talking seemed like a stupidly unnecessary thing to do, so she just entered the room, her hair and light nightdress fluttering behind her. Closing the door behind her and locking it, she simply climbed on the bed with him and snuggled up. Erik's skin was always a degree or two colder than hers, which was quite pleasant now that it was hot outside.

"Did you have fun yesterday?" Erik asked, feeling his stupid traitor arms wrap around her against his will when all he wanted to do was keep them crossed and sulk in peace. He could feel the warmth from Alina's body radiating and warming his own as she lay her head on his chest.

"Oh, so much fun. But I missed you.", Alina replied into his neck. The soft blowing of her breath made the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Did you, now?" _you seemed too preoccupied to miss me._ A bitter, jagged old wound had reopened with tonight's dream. If he closed his eyes, he could still see disappointment in Antoinette's eyes and feel regret over words he could no longer take back.

"Mhm." Alina knew him well enough to guess what he might be thinking, and had absolutely no intention to continue in that direction of conversation. Her fingers traced over his collarbones.

"Your sister doesn't like me."

"She has a lot of opinions about a great many things, but deep down she divides people into those who are nice to her and give her attention, and those who don't. It's really not hard to be her friend, as long as you are interested."

"And so far I haven't been nice nor given her any attention." he realized his own fingers had somehow tangled themselves in with the loose laces on Alina's nightgown and stilled them, waiting to see if she would tell him to stop.

"No, but that's certainly easily remedied, if you want her to like you. It's up to you."

"Hm." he wasn't too sure about that, but he had no reason to think Alina would lie to him. She wouldn't just force him to be around someone who would hate him from the start, would she? She never did that before. Unless Amelija was so much more important it didn't matter anymore what he -

"Alright." he sighed, hurrying to shut up _that_ particular thought by any means necessary.

Alina shifted slightly. "I wouldn't lie to you. I've never lied about who would be a decent person to you and who wouldn't."

"I know, I know." he paused. "She has the attitude of someone who has never felt like they were nothing."

"Ah, she certainly seems that way. But she's not really like that", Alina replied. "She… always had a problem with showing weakness. Especially to people she doesn't know well."

 _Maybe she'd be less annoying if she did show something, at least,_ he thought. Unfortunately, Alina knew him well.

"Maybe she's not trying to make herself likable", Alina offered. "She's trying to make herself seem… unreachable. But she'll get tired of the pretense. Everyone does."

One thin, golden ray of sunshine peeked through the thick black curtains. Dawn was breaking, but the room remained almost completely dark. Erik suddenly felt itching all over his head. He was not used to wearing the damned mask _all_ the time - that's why the room had these curtains and this heavy lock on the door; but now with one extra person in the house he still did it _just to be sure._ He felt its presence bothering him now. Without thinking, he took it off and set it by the bed.

"I'm glad you came", he remarked as calmly as he could. "It was stupid of me to lock the door. You can sleep here anytime you want, if you want to, that is."

Alina snuggled closer and pressed her lips against his. She slowly brushed her fingers across his bare cheek and through his hair, barely enough to feel it. She heard a little sigh from him as he slowly returned the kiss.

Erik felt his stupid needy arms tightening around her and his stupid bastard face burying itself in her neck, and his stupid lovesick heart fluttered against his ribcage.

Amelija woke up alone in a strange bed, in a little room with colorful curtains drawn over the big window, full of dried flowers in little glass bottles (Alina did always have a very specific approach to decorating) and various books strewn all over the desk that somehow managed to fit, along with the closet and bed, in the small space without making it cramped. She was just admiring the etchings on the desk drawers - little grapes, leaves and vines - when she heard a knock.

"Yes?"

The door opened with Alina's head peeking through. "I made you pancakes." she was speaking Croatian again.

"Is that supposed to get me out of bed before noon?"

"It won't?"

"Of course it will." Amelija sat up, rubbing her eyes as her big, fluffy brown hair spilled over her shoulders. "I was just admiring your desk. It's really pretty."

"Erik made that too", Alina grinned, turning around and switching over to English. "Amelija likes the desk you made."

"Thank her." a faint reply came from the living room.

"He says- "

"I heard." Amelija got up and grabbed some clothes out of her suitcase. "Some privacy, please, _mom?_ "

"Alright." the door closed again, and Amelija got dressed and went out, only to find out she'd been fooled.

"There's no pancakes, is there, you wretched witch."

"No", Alina grinned, taking out a bowl. "But we can make them together. Pass me some milk." she was blindingly cheerful, annoyingly cheerful for so early in the morning. Amelija nodded at Erik, who was reading some book peacefully in the corner of the room. He looked up and nodded back. Amelija politely switched to English again in his presence.

"What are you reading?"

" _The Brothers Karamazov._ " he held it up. "I found it in French. I don't know Russian well enough yet. I can only hope the translation is correct." he had prepared this response in case she asked, but he still had to force himself to say every following sentence.

"I've read that!" Amelija blinked. "Do you like it?"

"Uh", _that_ he had not prepared for, so he had no idea what to say. "I don't know. I can't say yet. But it's interesting so far." It was the response he gave Alina the first time she asked him that question back when they first met, equally confused; he remembered her laughing as she replied she'd wait until he finished reading. She asked him again a few days later, and by then he was prepared.

"Hm." Amelija grabbed the milk and passed it on to Alina. "That's clever."

"How so?" Alina asked.

"Well, if you haven't read the whole book and people ask you if you like it and you say _yes,_ and then you finish the book and the ending is garbage, then you have to find those people again and tell them you've changed your mind or they'll think you're a fool. If you say 'I don't know yet', then you sound profound and wise, because you don't form opinions too early."

Erik looked very offended by that observation for some reason even though it wasn't actually offensive, but Alina laughed. "Is that speaking from personal experience?"

"I'm still angry about the end of _Crime and Punishment._ "

"You're angry about redemption?"

"I was really, really hoping I'd get at least _one_ good villain protagonist who doesn't repent in literature, and _Crime_ really made me believe that would be it. It was so interesting until it became like everything else."

"Classics are classics for a reason." Alina, with her unquenchable thirst for redemption stories, really didn't mind the ending to _Crime and punishment._

"You're just a boring old lady. Go re-read _Les Miserables_ and leave me alone with my vices."

"You're older than I was when you started telling me that", Alina remarked, whisking the ingredients Amelija passed to her in the bowl. Amelija stuck one finger discreetly in the flour bag, and smeared it over Alina's nose.

"Really?" Alina raised her eyebrows. "You know what that means, right?"

Amelija smiled.

"And you're ready for consequences?" Alina grabbed a small fistful of flour and hurled it at Amelija, who dodged it just in time. Flour spilled all over the table and floor in a magnificent cloud.

"You have too many telltales, amateur. You always twitch before you throw it." Amelija laughed, circling the table until she got to the flour bag again. Alina, who kept her distance circling behind her, suddenly quickened her pace and instead of grabbing the flour with her left hand from the bag, threw another fistful from her right hand that landed directly on Amelija's face. Amelija, completely shocked, started coughing, sneezing and wiping the tears from her watering eyes.

"You bi-"

"Conceit was always your greatest sin, Amelija. Don't assume you've got people outsmarted until you really have."

"I didn't know you finally learned to properly use your right hand, spawn of Satan-"

"Properly? No, I didn't", Alina laughed.

"Fine. You win." Amelija straightened again, suppressing her cough. "Oh God. I think I've got an eyelash stuck in my eye. Is it in my eye?" she rubbed her eyes again.

"Don't rub it -"

"Come look and tell me if I've got something in my eye."

Alina stepped over and looked, cupping Amelija's face gently. "I don't see anything."

That statement soon proved to be too true, as another fistful of flour exploded directly in her face.

"YOU- "

"What? Now we're even."

"Alright, fair." Alina looked over to Amelija, still with flour on her face and hair, imagining she probably looked the same. "Whoever washes first is a coward."

Amelija nodded solemnly for a moment before exploding into laughter, Alina following. They laughed as they made pancakes, chatting in multiple languages at the same time and singing the same songs they used to sing as kids - Amelija would occasionally cast a glance towards the masked man sitting in the corner, but he seemed unbothered by it as he kept his eyes on his book. On the rare occasions he thought she wasn't looking, he'd cast a quick glance at Alina and the corner of his lips would twitch upwards into a smile.

"I'd say, Alina, you're not as bad at cooking as you used to be", Amelija said, finishing her third pancake. Amelija was the first one to wash her face after the battle, but Alina was smart enough not to tease her any more. They both still had little specks of flour around their temples that neither wanted to point out.

"As I used to be when? When I was seventeen?"

"Alright, definitely better than when you were seventeen, but I would say living in London had completely ruined your taste. Whenever I visited you I thought you'd completely lost your capacity to enjoy any kind of pleasure in life." she put another bite of jam-filled deliciousness in her mouth. "It's good to see you've loosened up a little." they were still talking in English and even though Erik kept sitting in his armchair and refused to join them for breakfast saying he'd eat later, he was clearly listening as he slowly looked up with interest.

"Really? What made you so miserable in London?" he asked Alina.

"Hmmmm", she put down her fork to think. "I don't think I even realized I was miserable back then. I was so eager to get away from everything, I didn't realize how lonely I'd become. I was proud to be living alone and working, and I completely forgot that work isn't everything. I didn't even know I was supposed to enjoy myself."

"I don't think I could just _forget_ to enjoy myself", Amelija frowned.

"That's a good thing, you know."

"And now it's different?" Erik asked quietly at no-one in particular.

"Oh, it's definitely different", Amelija turned to him. "Have you not noticed how much she's changed, how much more relaxed she is? Even at first glance I noticed how she's eating real food, actually wearing her nice dresses, laughing, she even stopped hunching her shoulders. Is that because of you?"

Erik opened his mouth, mortified, when Alina took over. "Alright, we all know how you love to make people uncomfortable, but will you please get properly dressed so that I can take you out?"

"Heh. Where are you taking me?" Amelija folded her cutlery and got up with enthusiasm.

"Wherever you want." Alina stood up and started collecting dishes only to be interrupted by a hand taking them from her before she could carry them to the sink.

"I'll do it. I'll be here today. Have fun", Erik said quietly, then waited for Amelija's door to close after her before he smiled and whispered, "Is it really because of me?"

The corners of her eyes wrinkled a bit. "Perhaps."

"You're very cute, but I need an honest answer." he looked at her. "Your life has changed for the better with me?"

"Yes", she whispered back. "Was that not your intention? Or were you secretly trying to make me miserable all along?"

"No, no" he replied. He reached out to run his thumb along her cheek as he seemingly lost his ability to understand humor. "I just didn't think I'd succeed at it." he pulled away as he heard footsteps near the door. "You should go. Your sister will come out now." he could not force himself to act natural or affectionate in front of her, so for the following weeks he would have to get very good at catching precious little seconds of Alina's time alone. He never said it out loud, but Alina followed along flawlessly in this strange, awkward dance.

Alina nodded, passing by to fetch her things from her room as Amelija exited. For a moment, Amelija and Erik looked at one another awkwardly.

"You won't be coming with us?" Amelija asked. Erik could not, for the life of him, figure out if she was asking him to come along or to stay. Her incredible ability to hide her true feelings was definitely very high on the list of things he was starting to resent about her.

"No." he shrugged.

Another terrible moment of silence ensued.

"Do you have some other business?" Amelija tried another futile attempt at small talk.

"Not really." he paused again, thinking whether it was actually rude to not provide a reason for his absence in this particular case, and whether the real reason - _I just really don't want to come -_ would make it worse.

"You two have a lot of catching-up to do. I don't want to bother you", he settled on the most diplomatic answer he could muster.

"That's thoughtful of you", she replied politely. "I'm curious to see where Alina decides to take me."

"I'm sure she'll think of something special. She always does."

As the women left, Erik picked up the plates and, needing something to do with his hands while he was thinking, started washing them. He could finally relax, being alone again; he enjoyed it so immensely as he finished washing and sat down to drink the coffee Alina had left for him on the table. It was the coffee Amelija brought - strong and aromatic, and bitter - it was quite fitting, coming from her.

Erik had no idea what to do about Amelija. Her very presence grated on his nerves, even when she didn't speak, which probably wouldn't be very often. She seemed to be just as chatty as Alina was, but while Alina's rambling and chirping was soothing to him, Amelija's every word made his skin crawl. He didn't know how to explain it - she hadn't said anything wrong, exactly; she had been acting polite and friendly for the past twenty-four hours she was there.

But she disliked him, and he knew it. He'd bet his violin on it. And while Alina claimed it was simply a matter of time and patience, he wasn't so sure. He had indeed decided to be friendlier to her for Alina's sake; but every time he'd tried to say anything in front of her he clammed up instead. He couldn't shake the feeling the little woman was listening to his every word carefully, and for some reason, judging him. He couldn't shake the feeling that every word she said to him was a careful calculation - but unlike Alina, who emanated sincerity beneath it, Amelija emanated absolutely nothing.

Some very young version of Erik, buried very deeply, remembered that feeling from long ago. There were many times when people who normally hated him would try for whatever reason to be civil with him, but he could always tell when it was just a pretense. He could pick up on the small hints in their behaviour that they wished he would disappear; one part of him did want to disappear and remove himself from that feeling of being completely unwanted. Contrary to what he had told Alina, there was, in fact, one clear memory Erik had of his birth mother, even after not having seen her for over twenty years - her voice, her face, her words had all faded away during his life, and it was probably for the better. What he could remember, however, was that feeling of hearing her say one thing, a completely harmless thing - _Erik, it's alright, you can come out now_ \- even as hatred flashed out of her eyes. He would come out every time, trusting her instead of his senses, and he would be wrong more often than not.

The last time he heard her say it and obliged, he woke up in chains alone.

 _Alina would not do this to me. Love doesn't blind her to danger, it never has._

Maybe he should have gone with his original plan and simply disappeared for a few weeks until Amelija left. He couldn't shake the feeling he was in danger.

But that was not the only thing. Another part of him rose in defiance, demanding to be seen. Demanding to prove something, to not just huddle up and fade away.

Erik took a sip of the bitter black coffee as he realized, scowling in disgust at himself, that he wanted to _prove_ to Amelija that he was better than she thought him to be.

 _I'd rather die than do that,_ Pride asserted.

 _Apparently that doesn't mean much, because I said that about many other things and still did them later._

He heard a soft, recognizable knock on the door as he finished his coffee and stood up to scoop the sleeping child out of Yana's arms.

"Good morning", she smiled at him. "Are you surviving?"

"Barely", he lowered Piotr gently on the couch. Piotr barely stirred. "How are you?"

"I'll work a little more this week, but then I should have next week free,'' she said. "But I need to teach the new girls before I leave, or they might make a disaster while I'm gone."

"I once watched as Antoinette taught the new prima ballerina", he remarked.

"And?"

"Apparently, there are many little things you know when you do something for a long time, and you can't remember _how_ you know them. You forget to tell people about it, because it's self-explanatory."

Yana raised her eyebrows. "Oh."

"It's better to let someone watch you as you work, than to explain. You'll forget to mention the most important things, because they're so important you do them automatically by now."

"Hmm." Yana put her finger over her mouth in thought. "Then I'll have to stay longer today."

"It's better than having to correct their mistakes later. Also, tell them to ask you questions. Don't snap at them when they ask stupid questions."

"I never snap."

"You might, because there will be questions and they _will_ be stupid. And you'll get frustrated. But try not to." Erik rubbed his temple a bit. "In my experience, nobody learns as quickly when they're afraid or pressured. Be it cooking or dancing or sing- you know what, I'll tell you about _that_ another time. But don't repeat my mistakes."

"Thank you", Yana beamed at him. "That helps a lot."

Erik took the small metal pot with coffee from the stove and poured some in another cup. "I'm told this is _real_ coffee. Do you want some?"

Yana took the cup from him and drank some, raising her eyebrows. "That.. _is_ real coffee. Wow."

"Alina's sister brought it. She seems to have access to many _real_ and _meaningful_ things", he said with a slight hint of pettiness in his voice.

"I hope that helps her", Yana said innocently.

"With what?"

"With the fact her sister left her."

Erik blinked.

"Bitter", Yana remarked into her coffee. "And the language is hard to understand."

"I understand it well enough", he murmured to himself. _That_ was absolutely not true. He understood Croatian when Alina spoke it, because she made an effort to speak clearly. He couldn't make out anything Amelija was saying back to her. Spoken Croatian also included a fair amount of German words, and while Erik could understand some German (he had learned it, among other things, during one of those periods he'd get insufferably bored and decide to change something about his life) the German words in Croatian would get twisted and adapted to fit the grammar and pronunciation of a Slavic language. All he could decipher with his good hearing would be when the language changed, not what they said.

Yana smiled at him. "You know what I mean."

"Well, if she won't make the effort, neither will I. I don't owe her anything."

"Amelija is very small. Smaller than Alina", Yana remarked, seemingly ignoring his offended rambling. "Her shoes have heels. I think she tries to be taller."

"What the hell has that got to do with any of this?"

Yana looked at him, wondering if he was really an idiot or if he was purposefully being difficult. It seemed obvious to her.

"She's not like Alina. If you want her to be, that will only annoy her", Yana said, sipping on her coffee. "You know you can put sugar in this to make it less bitter?"

"That's how they made it, so I left it that way."

"You have your own hands", she said. "If it's too bitter, make it sweet. Better than resenting her for bringing bitter coffee."

"But-"

"You have your own hands, Erik", Yana repeated, looking at him sternly.

ooo

"Good afternoon", Alina burst into Yana's workplace after a long day of sightseeing as she usually did, loudly and noticeably, winking at the kids who waited for their ice cream. Amelija followed gracefully behind her.

"Is Yana here?"

There was actually another girl named Yana currently in the shop, but she didn't even flinch, used to the scene playing out before her.

"Yana's shift will be over in half an hour, miss", said Polina, the plump little rosy-cheeked girl who worked as a waitress. "Would you like to order?"

"Lemonade, please. That's a fairly long shift", Alina commented as she sat down, Amelija settling across from her.

"She's been promoted to supervise the younger bakers, miss."

"Oh, that's splendid", Alina beamed. "What are you having, Amelija?"

"Hmmm", Amelija looked around. "Lemonade, yes, and… surprise me with the cake. I'll trust in your judgement."

"Uh, alright", Polina blushed and hurried off.

"Cute girl", Amelija remarked. "Now, where were we?"

"You were going to tell me how exactly you managed to get mama to let you out so late", Alina crossed her arms. "She _never_ suspected what you were doing?"

"No, how would she? Do you think Laszlo would knock on our door, asking for my hand in marriage? Don't be ridiculous."

"Who covered you?" Alina narrowed her eyes.

"Everyone", Amelija smiled proudly. "Nikola, Jelka, Pavle, even Danica once. They were incredible."

"Hmph. You're very good at this. You know, you're old enough that you could have just told her and she'd have no way of stopping you. Nobody can forbid you from partying or seeing someone if you're an adult."

"Was that really a conversation worth having, though?" Amelija smiled sweetly at Polina who was currently putting on her table the biggest piece of cake Alina had seen her cut for anyone. "Thank you, miss. I'm sure it will be delicious", Amelija remarked.

Polina smiled, blushing violently again, and excused herself. The sisters remained seated for another half hour, waiting for Yana to go home together, and the little waitress thought she could see Amelija smiling at her under long eyelashes.

ooo

After dinner, which Erik obviously missed under the excuse that "Piotr wanted to go outside", the three women settled down chatting and drinking the strong drink Amelija had brought with her from across the sea.

"Do you know how to play briscola?" Amelija asked Yana, shuffling the cards.

"Yes."

"Can we play without a fourth person?" Alina asked.

"Yes, of course, I'll figure it out", Amelija said. She had always been good at these things - she could take any game and alter the rules to her current situation while making it still playable. "Of course, you could play with us", she nodded at Erik sitting across the table. "I'm willing to bet you're really good at bluffing, and Alina could use some help." it was a conscious poke at him, trying to see if he would play along or get offended, but he didn't react at all.

"No, thank you", he replied stiffly.

"Alina will lose, then", Amelija grinned. "She is terrible when she has to play against other people."

"I'm good at playing _with_ other people", Alina grumbled. "Maybe some of us are more suited for cooperation than competition."

"You're so incredibly boring, you know that? I'm honestly ashamed of you."

While women chatted, Piotr looked up from his drawing at the colorful cards in Amelija's hands and realized they piqued his interest. He walked over to Erik, poking his arm until he got his attention.

"Pick me up", Piotr demanded, reaching his arms out to Erik.

Erik looked at him silently.

"Pick me up, _please_ ", Piotr rolled his eyes impatiently.

"Yes, sir", Erik said, picking him up gently to put him on his lap. Piotr squirmed a bit before settling down and looking at the women playing cards. Erik smiled, ruffling the boy's soft hair for a bit.

"That looks boring", Piotr asserted.

"It does?" Erik asked.

"They're just looking at cards and throwing them", Piotr explained. "You just have to throw the right card. No thanks."

"It's not about the cards", Erik said. "It's about, uh, them."

"Huh?"

"They try to figure out which card is the right one by looking at each other and their behavior", he said. "There's also strategy to it."

"Do you like that game?"

"Hm. Sometimes."

"I don't", Piotr decided.

"That's fine", Erik smiled. "There are other games. We'll play something else later."

Amelija listened to them talk, considerably surprised by the exchange.

"Which games do you like?" she asked curiously.

Piotr shrugged. His games didn't really have a name. He turned to Erik, waiting for him to explain it to the strange lady.

"You won't tell her yourself?" He asked. Piotr was growing more shy as he grew older - he still acted the same around people he knew well, but now he would sometimes feel uneasy when asked questions he couldn't answer or put in situations he didn't understand. Piotr nudged him lightly.

Erik could absolutely understand the wariness Piotr felt around strangers, and unlike Alina and Yana, didn't have the heart to push him into talking.

"He doesn't like competing. Most of his games are… more fantasy and fairytale than play", he explained, looking into Amelija's eyes. It unnerved him how much she looked like Alina - and how cold her eyes were, unlike the ones he was used to.

"He likes to play pretend?" Amelija chuckled. "That's understandable. Many adults never get out of that phase either."

He bowed his head to her, "many, yes. Though they turn it into other games."

Amelija smiled at him sweetly, turning back to her cards. Alina shot them both a look, but decided to say nothing for now.

"I'm bored." Piotr announced, turning to Erik again.

"Right. Perhaps you just need to look at things from a different perspective", he replied, standing up as he grabbed Piotr around his waist and swung him lightly upside-down. Piotr screamed with delight, and Amelija saw a jolt of shock course through Erik's body as his arms spasmed and his fingers clenched at the sound - it lasted for a second before he composed himself. He stopped and looked at the boy seriously.

"Softer, Piotr", he merely said, in the same quiet voice. "We've talked about this."

"Sorry", Piotr replied quietly, grinning apologetically as he covered his cheeks with his hands. "Swing me again!"

With Erik turned away and distracted, Yana cast a glance at Amelija and whispered in some mix of Croatian and Russian, "You can't talk to him like that."

Alina kept silent and focused on the cards, but Amelija looked up at Yana in surprise.

"Are you talking to me or?"

"Yes."

"About Piotr?"

"No, not Piotr." Yana kept her gaze on her cards. Erik had good hearing; he'd turn around if he heard his name in any language.

"What, exactly, have I done wrong?" Amelija asked.

"You will mess up his head. He knows you don't like him, but you keep pretending and saying things with double meanings. He doesn't trust strangers. You shouldn't mess with him like that."

Amelija raised her eyebrows, feeling irritated at that quiet scolding. "He seems to be handling it fairly well, and doing the same."

"Yes. He can do it forever. But it won't make him your friend", Yana replied flatly as she looked at her cards.

"And what do _you_ want me to do?" Alina frowned at her.

"Nothing. This is not my problem. But you want to prove you're better than him, and he wants to prove you're not. And that's annoying to me." Amelija stared in shock at the quiet girl's apparent lack of shame at minding everyone else's business when Yana looked up once again and switched seamlessly to English. "Erik, put him down _right now_ or I will -"

Erik gently and obediently lowered Piotr, whom he was until now holding by his ankles, down on the couch. "Don't blame me, little man. Your mother hates fun."

When Amelija looked at the couch again, Piotr was already sleeping soundly with his head resting on Erik's leg; Erik seemed completely unbothered by it as he was reading his book and only occasionally looked down and reached to ruffle Piotr's hair. Amelija looked at him, a decision finally forming in her head. She waited for Yana to pick up Piotr and leave, and asked Alina to go to bed without her, as she wanted to stay awake a little longer. After Alina left, Erik waited what he thought was a polite amount of time (it wasn't, it was only a few minutes) and closed his book, announcing he was going to bed as well.

"My mother sent something for you as well", Amelija said quietly.

He stopped in his tracks and looked at her, but his expression remained completely undecipherable under the mask.

Amelija stood up and rummaged through the pockets of her suitcase, taking out a small package.

"Alina wrote to me about you," she said unsurely. "She said you were a musician."

"What else did she say?" he tilted his head slightly as they both sat back down.

"You know, I don't really remember it all, as it was mostly just infatuated rambling. But she seems to think your eyes are "enchanting" if I translated that to English correctly."

Erik blinked in surprise. "What was the word she used?"

"In Croatian? " _Očaravajuće"_ , if that means anything. But if you tell her I told you, she'll end me, so don't." She frowned a little. "Do you know Croatian?"

"I understand a little. I don't speak it." he _could_ actually speak it a little bit as well, but had no intention of uttering a single word of Croatian in front of Amelija, ever.

"Ah." terrifying. Amelija tried to remember for a split second if she said anything to Alina in his presence that he wasn't supposed to hear - she couldn't remember anything, thankfully. She held the neatly wrapped box in her hand. "In any case. This is for you."

Erik took the box from her and looked at it for a few seconds as Amelija sat across from him again. He then looked at her again.

"You can open it now," she clarified.

He unwrapped the package slowly without ripping the paper, then opened the box and equally slowly took out the soft filling that prevented the contents from breaking. The first thing he took out were the cufflinks.

He took them in his hand very slowly and carefully, observing them as his long fingers turned them over gently. They were made of two little round pieces of amber set in silver frames, with silver clasps to fasten them to the sleeves of a shirt.

"They're from our father", Amelija remarked. "You can wear them to concerts or something like that." The cufflinks were her least favorite of the bunch - her father wasn't really the one to give personal or emotional presents, but he was very good at conveying messages he intended to convey. The cufflinks were simple, elegant and masterfully made, and carried with them the implication that Amelija's father took Erik for the kind of gentleman who would have use of something so classy. She thought it unnecessarily snobby - _Alina will be so annoyed when she sees them_ \- but looking at Erik now, she had to admit it struck the right chord.

He looked at Amelija again, then put them down wordlessly. He reached into the box again.

The next thing he took out was a simple palm-sized wooden flute, not lacquered but carved with little leaves and flowers. "It's a traditional Croatian flute", Amelija said. " _Frula._ This one is very small, but the tone is very soft, and mom thought you might like it." Erik traced the carvings with his finger. It was a much less expensive gift, but the message was much more personal.

He looked at Amelija again for a few seconds - she was getting annoyed already - and, after some hesitation, put the flute on his lips and blew into it. It produced a soft, wooden sound; he played a few notes before putting it down again next to the cufflinks. Amelija had a passing thought it sounded a little too lovely for someone just blowing in it for the first time.

The last thing he took out of the box was a simple black fountain pen, inlaid with a bright blue-green strip made of some kind of nacre. The strip was iridescent and changed color between green, blue and purple as he turned it over.

"Abalone shell. From the Adriatic sea," she explained. "They're rather popular. Mama said nacre was more appropriate for jewelry, but I, personally, thought you might like it. I thought you might use it for compositions, or drawings."

He held the pen in his fingers as if it were made of incredibly thin glass. "This one is from you, then?" he asked quietly.

"So to speak," Amelija shrugged.

"Why?" he asked, even quieter, barely above a whisper.

 _I don't know? I wanted to make my own present something beautiful without an agenda for a change?_ Amelija didn't really know what to say; this was so far removed from any normal reaction to gifts she'd ever seen. "Isn't it customary when you visit someone to bring thank-you gifts to your hosts?" she asked. Truth be told, the gifts had a double purpose - if Amelija judged that Alina was really happy, they would serve as sort of welcome gifts to welcome him into their family, as they would probably get no other chance to give them. She didn't really want to tell him that just yet.

"I don't know", he said. "I'm not well-versed in etiquette."

 _Really? I couldn't tell._ "It is where I come from. We always did it whenever we visited our family or friends. It was my mother who said we should get something for you, and she knows all about these things."

"Mhm." He looked at the presents again, then back at her. "These are very beautiful. I've never had anything like this before. Thank you." He held up the fountain pen. "You were right. I do like it."

Amelija was used to flowery language and over-dramatic reactions to gifts - it was a big part of her family and culture - but this was something else. He had barely said anything, but he looked at the presents as if he wasn't sure if they were the most beautiful things he'd ever seen, or if maybe they had a hidden razorblade planted in them. Erik must have realized how awkward and stiff he was acting as well, and after another second of silent hesitation he took off his own, plain metal cufflinks from the sleeves of his shirt - Amelija could see a pale flash of a horribly jagged scar on his wrist, only for a split second as the sleeve opened a little - and switched them with the amber ones.

"They're very dramatic", he smiled to himself.

"They fit you", Amelija smiled back.

"I'm beginning to think I'm too easily bought with shiny things", he mumbled to himself.

"And the flute? You can try playing it."

"The flute is wonderful. But I'd like to get to know it a little better before I play it in front of someone." He bowed his head slightly at Amelija, a gesture she was starting to understand. Erik felt a tad guilty - it was a lie; he could probably play it well enough - he'd seen and tried out enough flutes back in Paris. But he didn't really want to play it in front of her yet.

"I have to go now," he stood up, putting the flute and the pen back into the box very, very carefully. "Thank you. And thank your family."

ooo

 _Dear Antoinette,_

 _I hope you're doing well. Everything's fine here - well, I'm losing my mind over mundane things, but when am I not? Alina's sister arrived, and she's more-or-less exactly as I had imagined her. I don't like that she's here, but Alina has been so blindingly happy since she arrived that I cannot help but go along with it. I understand that she's used to having a big family, and I am only one man - I can't blame her for wanting more than I can solely give her._

 _Well, I can, but after some thinking I've decided not to._

 _Speaking of family, I'm facing some troubles with my citizenship. We never had a plan for that part, and I won't bother you with it, because I've bothered you enough. I was originally going to be alright with simply existing completely incognito and in mutual ignorance with the world. However, a chance has opened for me to_

 _[one entire row of scratched-out words]_

 _As it turns out, Jack has found an opportunity for me to work, as a musician, that is. There's a small, recently-opened concert hall that performs shorter works by unknown musicians - it's not a very profitable endeavor, but I'm told they make money by hosting performances for the Conservatory and various other musical schools. It still sounds absurd, but yes, I could get a chance to send my compositions and see what happens. Truth be told I haven't done anything to pursue that ambition yet, but you can hold your judgemental looks for now, because I will._

 _Meanwhile I'd like to fill out the damned paperwork and be naturalized, but I'm lacking any goddamn proof of my existence save for my physical presence - I don't remember when or where I was born, I don't remember if I was baptized, I have no blood relations to witness for me and I don't even have a last name. For all intents and purposes, I might as well have been born yesterday, or not at all. Funnily enough, having no history automatically leads people to assume you have a history you want to hide, and it's not doing me any favours. I didn't think it would bother me this much, but it does._

 _But, as I've said, you needn't bother with it. I'll figure something out._

 _Erik._

 _My dear Erik,_

 _I understand you're having some troubles with the more mundane aspects of being fully accepted into society; I don't envy you for all the paperwork and procedure that awaits you before you become a full citizen. By the time this letter reaches you, maybe you'll have found a solution already. But, truthfully, I would have preferred if you'd asked me outright instead of having to read your letter three times before I understood what you wanted from me. If the problematic of family names bothers you that much, you can simply take mine. Did you really think I'd refuse? If you need to write down relatives to witness for you, you can put me, of course, and Lucien - any short search will confirm that he indeed existed, and I doubt they'll go so far to check if he still does. I've wrote down what I know of his family tree so you can, hopefully, find a spot for yourself._

 _Next time you happen to forget you're my son in every way that matters, I will be gravely offended. Your shyness is more than a little charming, but please, no more tiptoeing around family. You're getting too old for this nonsense._

 _With love,_

 _Antoinette._


	27. The more people know about me, the m

_A/N: Oh goodness, I haven't updated since before the plague! How have you all been? How many signs of the coming apocalypse have you had so far? We've only had the 'rona, the economic recession, and the strongest earthquake in the past 140 years, but looking at world news I think we've had it easy. It was a bumpy ride for the past few months, that's for sure. I hope you all are safe and sound. Also, thank you to the very kind people who have commented in the past few months 3_

27\. The more people know about me, the more I want to disappear

It was rather immature to avoid Amelija after the previous night, Erik knew. He did it anyway, but he knew by the nagging voice in his head - Antoinette's voice - that it was a rude, immature thing to do to avoid her for that day after she went out of his way to befriend him. It would have been much better if he had stayed home on this warm and sleepy morning, if he played with Alina's hair until she woke up and then joined her and her sister for breakfast. It would have been better and less selfish than marauding around the cliffs and listening to the crashing waves.

He did it anyway.

And he didn't regret it even though he felt slightly guilty. Sitting on one of the more hard-to-reach cliffs he took out the delicate little flute Alina's mother sent him across the ocean and looked at it again in the light of day. It was quite lovely - a simple piece of discreetly carved and decorated wood. He brought it up to his mouth to try playing it as he thought about what he should do.

Until now he did not give a single damn about Alina's family; he had no desire to meet them and frankly saw them as figures in the background that might one day try and take her from him. He resented them for how lonely and out-of-place Alina seemed to feel back home, knowing very well how that felt. If he could have opted out of this whole situation and simply taken her somewhere even further where they couldn't send anyone to find them, he'd be seriously tempted. If he could have disappeared until Amelija was gone without Alina having that unbearably disappointed look in her eyes -

 _Ah, best not to torture myself with things too good to happen. I'm stuck._

And he was going to lose his mind for sure.

His very limited capacity for people he could stand on a regular basis was already stretched thin, and those people were carefully picked as trustworthy and comforting. He handpicked and tested each and every one of the people he considered friends, and knowing that, it was easier than expected to genuinely care about them.

Being thrown into a melting pot of strange, difficult, temperamental people he'd never met but was suddenly connected to was the last thing he wanted, and he honestly never expected it - how was he supposed to know they'd start treating him like family? He correctly guessed that Amelija's visit was a sort of check on him personally; but he never expected anything to happen if he passed it, only a disaster in waiting if he failed.

Well, he hadn't failed so far, judging by how much she tried to get along with him even though he obviously annoyed the life out of her.

 _That makes both of us._

 _This flute makes such a sweet, soft sound. I feel like I'm playing lullabies for birds and deer in some flowery meadow._

 _Fine, you two-faced, annoying little wench. I'll be your friend. I just don't know how._

It was impossible to figure out how people like Amelija expected him to act, because he'd never spent much time among _civilised society_ and _well-raised individuals._ While reading a book of rules and etiquette was easy, he was smart enough to know reacting on the spot to a certain situation was supposed to be quick and spontaneous - he couldn't just start acting the right way without practice, and he won't be getting practice anytime soon. He could only act like himself and hope for the best. Except he detested that idea so much he rather said and did as little as possible, melting away into the background like a shadow.

 _Background shadows cannot make terrible mistakes._

 _Ah, but ghosts can, can't they? At least one of them can. It seems no matter how much he hides, the worst things still remain visible._

He put the flute down, now considerably annoyed.

 _Who cares if you say or do something stupid and rude on accident? Are you really trying to convince yourself that's what you're afraid of - being rude or offending her? Do you think it would matter at all? Since when is that sort of trivial nonsense important to you?_

 _Other people's feelings are not trivial nonsense._

 _Well, who cares if she gets offended by something minor? She's bound to get much worse than offended if she finds out who and what you really are. You won't hide the rot behind kind words and niceties; she's too smart not to notice it. Alina noticed it right away, she just didn't care for whatever reason. It's literally right there, on your he-_

That was enough. Whatever conclusion or epiphany he was hoping to achieve here, he was now farther from it than when he started. He stood up furiously and hopped off the cliff, deciding he might actually benefit from someone who would put an end to his nonsense, since he was unable to do it himself.

ooo

It was more of a rapping than a knock at the door - _tappy-taptap -_ quiet and shy; Amelija, immersed in her own thoughts, almost didn't hear it.

"Amelija, can you get that for me?" Alina said over her shoulder, gently stirring the pot of stuffed peppers on the stove. "I'm somewhat occupied."

Amelija stood up obediently and walked over to the door. "Are you expecting someone?"

"No, but open anyway. Could be urgent."

Amelija opened the door, frowning at nothing for a moment before she thought to cast her glance down. In front of her was a short, slightly messy-looking boy with very distinct blue eyes on an otherwise plain face. He frowned back at her, mimicking her own confusion.

"Yes?" she asked.

"I'm looking for Miss Boričević. Is she here?"

"Yes, I'm her." Amelija answered automatically without thinking.

"I need a specific one, and you're not her", he replied with raised eyebrows. "Are there any more of you here?"

Amelija narrowed her eyes at him. "Alina, this _clever_ young man wants to see you."

Alina's head finally turned to the door. "Walter!"

"Good day, Miss", Walter replied, his expression suddenly becoming a lot less hostile. He tipped his hat and half-smiled at her shyly. "Sorry if I'm bothering you. I'm returning your book." he held out the book towards Alina disregarding Amelija in front of him, still standing in the doorway.

"Walter, for goodness' sake, what is that nonsense? Come in already!" Alina laughed, putting her arm around his shoulders and leading him inside. "You're not bothering me at all, in fact, I'm glad you decided to visit over the summer. This is my sister, Amelija. Amelija, this is Walter, one of my best students."

Amelija smiled at the boy, wondering what the rest of them were like if this rude brat was one of the best.

"I'm not", Walter grinned at her. "I'm terrible."

Alina laughed. "You won't lose the crown off your head if you accept a single compliment for once. How have you been?"

"Eh, I'm alright." Walter shrugged, sitting on the chair she drew out for him. "Went fishing yesterday.

"What did you catch?"

"Fish." Walter raised his eyebrows at Alina in the same manner he had at Amelija, but his eyes were twinkling with friendly humor instead of hostility. "No idea what kind it was, I don't really care about fishing. I just like to watch Hank and Sam lose their minds, fighting over bait and finding the best spot."

"And how was the book?" Alina asked, bringing Walter a fresh glass of lemonade before sitting across from him. "Was it too difficult? It's objectively quite difficult."

Amelija cast a look at the book in question - it was actually a textbook with the title _Geometry_ written on the front. She took it with interest - it seemed to be written for students a few years older than Walter.

"Nah, I mean, reading it was a bore, so I didn't exactly read everything", Walter shifted in his seat nervously. "I mostly solved the problems, that was fun."

"How did you know how to solve the problems without reading it?" Alina asked him, slightly confused.

"Well, I would read some parts if I _really_ couldn't figure it out", Walter scratched his head. "Mostly I looked at the examples and solutions, then did the same with the exercises. It wasn't that hard. I checked in the solutions later, it was mostly right."

Alina blinked.

"Yeah, okay, I know I said I'd practice reading", Walter hurried, "but this was just so boring. They explain every single step of every problem. I couldn't stand it. I'll read something interesting instead, can I do that?"

Alina's face beamed as her mouth spread into a huge smile. She gripped the edges of the table in excitement; her eyes twinkled with joy. "Walter, you're a genius! Great job! I can't believe you figured it out on your own, that's brilliant!"

"These are really not that easy", Amelija remarked with her nose in the book. Well, they were easy enough for her, but she couldn't tell how hard they would be for a child - especially with no adults around to help. The boy looked to be twelve or thirteen, although it was hard to tell. _Could it be that he lied about reading it?_ She wondered. But then again, there were notes on the margins, and Amelija was quite certain no adult would have made them, not with _that_ handwriting.

"I'm not sure what to teach you anymore", Alina laughed. "You can just teach yourself everything!"

"But I won't", Walter replied. "Not the boring stuff. I have standards."

"Obviously", Alina threw her hands in the air in mock annoyance. "Alright, well, great job. I'll think of something new to give you in a few days, meanwhile, you might as well enjoy your summer outside. Your brain might boil if you over-strain it."

"Just a second", Amelija lowered the book. "Walter, is it? Can I ask you something?"

"Yeaaaah?" Walter drawled with slight suspicion.

"Let's say you have a circle- alright, let's not be boring, let's have a cake", Amelija said, her finger drawing a circle on the table. "If you know the diameter of the cake is, let's say… do you use inches or centim- nevermind, let's use inches. Ten inches is the diameter. Would you be able to tell me the surface area of the circle?"

"Yeah, that's easy", Walter puffed. "The surface area has that one formula. Radius squared, multiplied by pi. That would be… three hundred and fourteen square inches. No, wait", he said as Amelija opened her mouth to correct him. "That's too much for just one cake. Diameter is ten, then the radius is five. Okay. Five squared is twenty-five, times pi… Can I have a pencil?"

"No need", Amelija said. "Twenty-five times pi, square inches, is close enough. Say, if I asked you to calculate the surface of one slice, could you do it?"

"Yeah. How many slices are there?"

"Not so fast", Amelija waved her finger. "That would be too easy. I can't tell you how many slices there are, but I can tell you that the central angle, whatever you people call it, where the slice connects to the rest of the cake, is twenty degrees. Could you then do it?"

"Yea, but then I still need a pencil and paper." Walt shrugged.

"Really", Amelija crossed her arms, smiling with interest. "Do you know the formula for the surface of a circle's sector?"

"No", Walter frowned. "Why would I memorize every single formula?"

"It's right here", she pointed at the page of the book with something scribbled on the margins. "Did you write this?"

"I did", Walter replied. "But you don't need to know it by heart. You can just derive it from the other formula, if needed, because the proportion of the angle to the whole circle is the same as the proportion of the surfaces. So the book said. That's how I do it."

Amelija blinked, paying little mind to Alina who winked proudly at Walter next to her. "Alright, I think it's time I give you a pencil and paper, because I really want to see this."

ooo

"Hello, Jack", Erik said in a recognizably flat tone that told Jack everything he needed to know as he opened the door cheerfully. "Am I bothering you?"

"Not at all, not at all." Jack smiled sincerely and gestured for him to come inside. Whatever Erik needed, he knew already he wouldn't say it out on the street. "Please, come in."

"Thank you."

As Erik entered and Jack closed the door behind him, Jack coughed and said, "Actually, I have to warn you I'm not alone. I have a guest who came this morning, but-"

"You should've said so. I'll just go", Erik moved towards the door, but Jack stopped him.

"Listen to me. I have a guest who might be very interesting to you for reasons you'll immediately understand. If you want to, you can leave, but it'll just take a few minutes of your time."

Erik blinked. "What?"

"Can you, please, just for once do as I ask and ask questions later?"

Erik shrugged. "I could."

"Thank you kindly." Jack gave him a playful eye-roll as he opened the door and led him to his living room. "Erik, this is Fritz Heidel, my friend since long ago. Fritz, this is Erik, my friend since recently."

The man sitting in Jack's armchair was somewhat stocky and had slightly messy, salt-and-pepper hair. His square face was framed by a pair of prominent eyebrows, which were now raised slightly in surprise; this was unnerving as his overall appearance gave the impression of someone who generally didn't get surprised easily.

The introduction was redundant from Erik's point. Erik knew very well who Fritz Heidel was.

He knew about him the same way he knew about most things happening in New York - through reading the news and shameless eavesdropping. He'd seen Heidel before and he'd heard people talk about him, and seeing as he thought it might potentially be relevant to him in the future, he paid attention.

The matter of fact was, Heidel was a conductor.

Not just any conductor, either - he conducted concerts for the New York Philharmonic Orchestra, as well as holding a professor's chair in the Conservatory. It was a respectable position, one that seemed in Heidel's case well-deserved - the man was seemingly the embodiment of several centuries' worth of tradition in search for artistic perfection. Erik had attended both his concerts and his lectures last Spring, always sneaking in secretly and leaving before anyone noticed him, and he had to admit that his concerts - solemn, serious and dignified - were always marked by absolute excellence from all parties involved. Heidel was more an institution than a man, and one that not many were invited to attend. As closely as he seemed to pay attention to all his students and subordinates, it was fair to assume that Heidel nevertheless never noticed him there, and the expression on the man's face suggested he was right.

Erik stood there, starstruck and horrified, as Heidel blinked a little in confusion. Jack closed the door and walked over to his usual armchair, and that seemed to snap Heidel out of his trance - he stood up and offered Erik his hand, nodding and muttering something similar to "nice to meet you". Erik, on his part, took his hand but said nothing and simply kept staring at him. _He looks so normal up close,_ he thought. _And so much smaller._

"Erik", Jack coughed, "Would you like to sit?"

Erik suddenly realized he was still towering over them, then sat down as quickly as humanly possible in very obvious embarrassment. He could hear Jack offering him something to drink from what seemed a very long distance, but refused it. He had a feeling it would significantly raise his chances of embarrassing himself further. He forced himself to look at Jack as he refused, even if he had a strong need to keep his eyes on Heidel like prey looking in terror at its stalking predator.

Although, to be fair, while Heidel seemed to be slightly uncomfortable himself and at a loss for what to say, he didn't seem particularly disgusted at the sight of him. Erik scratched slightly at the ties of his mask in a nervous tick, reminding himself it was still in place.

"Well", Jack said with his usual outward cheer and charm as he died inside at the sight of Erik's conversational incompetence, "this is strange. You two have more in common with each other than with me. I'm giving it five minutes before you start yapping about music or whatever and ditch me entirely. Fritz, I want you to remember I was the one who first introduced you to this very, _very_ talented young man."

"Oh", Heidel said with mild interest. "You're a musician?"

"I-" Erik stuttered. "Sometimes?"

"Sometimes?" Heidel raised his eyebrows at him in an arrogant gesture Erik imagined to have terrified generations and generations of Conservatory students over the years. "In my line of work, you either are, or you aren't one. What do you do?"

"I-" he almost told him, he wanted so badly to tell him and let him know he agreed with him but it was already too late to correct himself and _well, maybe you should scramble for his validation like some teenage fool, that'll impress him -_ "I, uh, I just want to say I've seen you conduct Dvorak's Requiem this Spring. I- I was surprised to see something so new, from Europe, come all the way here - I liked how - I liked how heavy it sounded. It- it- it was so heavy and dark, and I liked that you went with that, instead of trying to mellow it down and make it more palatable." He blurted it all out in one breath, his eyes darting around the room, then closed his mouth and looked at his hands. _Oh, how brave! How eloquently you used to criticize people around you when they weren't up to your standards, whispering from the shadows and pulling at their insecurities! Were you always this cowardly underneath? Is it because you actually respect this man, or just because he can actually see you?_

Heidel looked at him a little less sternly, then laughed. "Well, what would have been the point of it? It's a funeral mass. If people pay to hear me conduct a funeral mass, they're going to leave feeling like they died. They can only blame themselves; it was right there in the title."

"Yes", Erik muttered at his knuckles. "Yes, it was exactly what I was hoping for."

"Well, sir, you do know me then, but I don't know you", Heidel reclined in his armchair, intertwining his fingers in his lap with an air of languid confidence. "What did you say you do, again?"

"I didn't say", Erik admitted as Jack shot him a very venomous glare across the room. "I- I- that is, I mean, I am not actually a professional musician." he looked back at Jack with hot, embarrassed fury, because he _knew_ even if Heidel might lose interest and hopefully drop the subject now, Jack would sure as all hell not let it go so easily -

"No, not professional, but only because he isn't making money from it yet", Jack laughed, "But I'm willing to bet not even you, Fritz, would be able to tell as much if you heard him."

"Heard what?" Heidel raised his hands in amused confusion; he couldn't tell what was going on exactly, but after all these years he could definitely recognize stage fright when he saw it. "Not that I don't believe you, Jack, but heard what exactly? Maybe I've already heard it, I just don't know it yet."

"No", Erik whispered, "You definitely haven't."

Heidel looked like he wanted to tease him some more, but then decided against it. Instead, he kept silent for a moment as he sipped his drink and studied Erik carefully.

"Oh, I'm getting hungry. I'll get us something to last us until dinner, maybe some crackers", Jack announced, getting up. "Erik, could you come along and help me?"

"Right", Erik stood up abruptly and followed Jack into the small kitchen, where as soon as the door closed he was met with another annoyed glare.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Jack whispered through his teeth. "Why can't you be civil for five goddamn minutes? Fritz is - "

"Did you set this up?" Erik asked quietly, with a very slow and restrained tone in his voice that made Jack pause slightly. "I'm not in the mood to be thrown directly into fire. I have things on my mind."

"No?" Jack frowned. "How could I have known you'd come today? No, Fritz really is my friend, and he came to visit me. Which would be a remarkably beneficial coincidence for _you_ ", he pointed an angry finger at Erik, "If you could behave for, I don't know, a second or two and talk to him like an adult! Are you suddenly some kid who just learned _Twinkle, twinkle little star_ on the piano? Get a hold of yourself! Don't pretend like you don't have an entire symphony in your jacket pocket!"

"I don't." Erik crossed his arms defiantly, wondering how Jack knew that and whether it was actually that obvious or Alina simply told him.

Jack rolled his eyes.

"It's just one movement", Erik mumbled, looking away.

"Well, whatever that means it's beside the point -"

"I haven't finished it", Erik interrupted. "And, besides, what do you want me to do? Beg him to take a look at it while he's on his day off having a drink with you? You want me to crawl for his attention? How pathetic do you th- "

"What?" Jack snarled. "I don't give a damn _what_ exactly you do! Fritz has connections, and you'd be stupid or insane or _both_ not to at least let him know you're a musician looking for work, if you're already so incredibly shy you can't talk to him like a normal person about a shared passion! What, do you think you're secretly so terrible at it that he'll laugh at you? Are you really so fragile that -" he trailed off, eyes widening as he looked at Erik, who still fumed silently with his arms crossed. "Oh."

"Say another word and that'll be the last time we speak", he said, in that same flat tone that meant nothing good.

Jack nodded slowly, suddenly serious. A moment passed in silence.

"Could you, please, take this bowl of crackers to the living room?" Jack asked. Erik took the bowl obediently, and Jack pretended not to notice the ever-so-slight twitch of his fingers.

"Fritz is a good guy", Jack said after Erik turned to exit the room. "I mean, he's a bit full of himself, but he's not such a snob. He's good to his colleagues."

Erik studied the bowl in his hands. "I know. I've seen him teach." _that will make it worse if he hates me,_ he would have maybe added in a million years on a good day. He didn't actually know if he was going to sit down again or just keep walking out of the house until he actually lowered the small bowl on the table and felt his knees buckling to sit down against his will. Heidel thanked him politely and helped himself to some crackers, pretending to be blissfully unaware of the drama that was going on.

"I play violin", Erik forced out, the word _fragile_ still echoing mockingly in his skull. "I've tried other things, but I suppose I always come back to it. I have no formal education, only what I could pick up from books and looking at other people. A few years ago, I started composing."

"I see", Heidel said in a very carefree tone. "It takes a lot to learn violin all by yourself."

"Well, I am somewhat pathologically persistent." _maniacally obsessive_ would probably have been more accurate.

"Are you good at it?" Heidel raised his eyebrows at him again, like a professor challenging his students on the final exam.

"I'd say I'm good at playing the violin", Erik said, still faking confidence through sheer spite, "but I can't say much about my compositions. They're _different_ , that much I'm certain of."

"Ah", Heidel smiled at him somewhat smugly; he did always like students who had a little backbone. "How are they different?"

"I don't exactly know. I've never performed for an audience." _unless my lover counts? She likes them, would you like her recommendation? She's very good at talking, unlike me, perhaps she can explain._

"That sounds intriguing", Heidel replied. "If you ever do perform for an audience, I just might find myself in it. I do sometimes enjoy _different_ music."

"I could save you the trouble", Erik said, still flying on wings of spite as his mind kept screaming in the background, "I could show you an example of it, and if it's not to your liking you don't have to waste your time." he promptly took the neatly folded bunch of papers out of his jacket pocket, smoothed them out and laid them with pretend nonchalance out on the table. Heidel looked highly amused with the whole show, and Erik felt intoxicated with a sort of defiant pride as he leaned back. For a second he even thought it wouldn't matter what the man said - _he_ liked his own compositions, _he_ actually showed them to him, and that would be victory enough.

That sense of confidence lasted for a whole proud minute, and deflated as soon as Heidel put down his glass and picked up the papers, now with genuine interest and curiosity. Smugness and irony left Heidel's face as Jack finally entered the room again and sat down, giving Erik another glare - this one something between pride and annoyance.

Panic kicked in as Heidel read page after page in complete silence, sometimes smiling, sometimes frowning. Erik almost stood up and left a thousand times by the time he finished and finally looked up at him, serious. "You wrote this, then?"

"I did", he replied.

"I… I see", Heidel looked through the papers again, seemingly unsure what to say.

"If I may ask, why do you suddenly switch to E minor on this part of the page?" Heidel held up the page he was reading, holding it with noticeably more care than before.

"I- because the mood changes", Erik said, his ears burning from how idiotic he sounded to himself. He couldn't actually remember why he did it that way - he just wrote it down long ago and then glossed over that part.

"I see that, yes, I was just wondering if this might be done more smoothly if you just - over here, you tone it down to pianissimo and put a pause here for the violins, then they might start the new theme quietly as everything goes into crescendo again - what do you think?"

"I think - I think that would be better", Erik said, nearly paralyzed with embarrassment.

"There are a few more things I'd like to discuss - technical things, but overall - is this your first independent composing work?"

"I- the first finished one, so to speak, yes."

"Well, that's fantastic", Heidel said seriously, waving Erik's notes in the air. "This is some of the most creative, imaginative, inspired work I've ever heard, and I don't say this lightly. It just needs some polishing before it's ready to be performed - I am, in all honesty, impressed."

Erik nodded staring at the paper where Heidel pointed, his head spinning with the intensity of what the man was saying - it was too much for him to make sense of it at once; the compliments were more than he ever imagined - but what was that about _polishing_? _A piece of music is either good or it isn't,_ he thought; _either it makes you dream or it doesn't. Does that mean this doesn't? Would Heidel lie? It doesn't seem like he would bother lying._ He tried hard to put everything he said in its respective box - good, but also needs work, but also good. _Alright. I suppose in some other person's head those two might coexist - ah, this is probably why I was such a horrible music teacher._

Heidel was growing impatient with the young man staring intently at the paper in his hand.

"Well, then?" he asked.

"I would like it to remain as it is", Erik admitted quietly.

"In that case, I'll be honest with you", Heidel returned the papers to him. "Some parts are rather raw. I can appreciate what you were going for, but the audience - and the performers - might not. I can understand not wanting to sacrifice your artistic freedom, but - it won't hurt to try. If you're interested, I could offer some help. Once the work is finished, you'd be able to find an orchestra a lot easier if you tweak it just a little to New York's, ah, artistic sensibilities."

Erik was looking at him with pure fury now, and the next thing he would've said would probably have been extremely imprudent had Jack not started talking before he could even open his mouth.

"Fritz, but I think you're being a bit harsh", he laughed. "You're criticizing his first child, and that's never easy to hear. I think anyone in Erik's position would prefer to think about it first before he decides anything. Don't you think so?"

"Of course, of course, I wasn't going to get a pencil and start crossing out parts right away", Heidel laughed. "I don't think of myself so highly yet."

"That's good to know", Erik said quietly in a tone that only slightly resembled hissing.

"Neither does Erik", Jack looked at him with murder in his eyes. "And he certainly doesn't think so highly of himself to disregard in advance the advice of someone with your level of education and influence."

The three of them smiled at each other in silence for a second as Jack poured himself a second glass of whiskey, thinking about whether he should maybe give Erik a bill for all the alcohol he consumed to put up with him lately.

"Thank you for your advice", Erik said, bowing his head very slightly while looking down at the table. "Honestly. It… it makes sense, what you're saying. I'd just like to think about it."

ooo

Alina opened the door and rushed out without looking as she usually did to once again collide head-on with her lover's chest, who stumbled along with her and gripped her shoulders to steady her. Erik sometimes wondered if she was actually aware that his reflexes were in reality fast enough to avoid her, and if she, too, liked the act of simply allowing her to bump into him and then throw her arms around him as she was doing now.

"Hello, darling", she purred gently. "It's good to have you back. How has your day been?"

"It's better now", he whispered slowly into her hair as the tight knot in his shoulders gently unraveled.

"I was wondering what kept you so long", she lifted her chin up to look at him. "We were just about to go out."

"I'm sorry. Jack kept me - I'll tell you about it later."

"Oh, alright. We're just going to take a walk - do you want to come along?" Alina asked, giving him one of her sweet smiles that wrinkled the corners of her dark eyes. He was still holding her shoulders, and he felt his thumb run across her arm a little bit.

"I was actually going to - oh, to hell with it. If you're inviting me, I'll go." Amelija exited the house and closed the door, but he was still distracted looking at Alina. It didn't really matter in that moment what embarrassment he might put himself up to if she'd keep smiling at him like that.

"Alright", she wrapped her arm around his and waited for her sister to catch up. "Anyway, Walter visited while you were away."

"Oh." they started walking along the path, Alina in the middle with Erik and Amelija on each of her sides. Amelija was uncharacteristically quiet. "And?"

"Apparently, he taught himself geometry while only kind-of reading some of the book and solving the problems."

"I really thought that book would last him longer."

"So did I, because I thought he'd have to read the _actual text_ to understand the math and reading would have taken much longer, but apparently, it was much easier to power through the math on trial and error and ignore the instructions." she waved her hand, gesturing with frustration."Kids! You never know what they're going to do, but you can be sure it's not what you want them to do."

"And how do you know he didn't just learn it all wrong?" Erik laughed.

"I tested him", Amelija chimed in quietly. Her usual confident attitude seemed somewhat deflated. "He solved almost everything correctly", she shrugged with slight defeat. "When I asked him to explain how he did it - well, he certainly has his own way of understanding things, but his logic is sound. It's just not how, uh, normal people would conventionally think."

"Hm", Erik nodded to himself. Just when Amelija expected him to shut in as he normally did when she entered the conversation, he asked, "Are you well-learned in mathematics and such yourself?"

"I'd like to think that I am", she answered, unsure if he was trying to mock her, but his tone had no sarcasm once again - just a genuine question phrased in a strangely blunt way, which she struggled to also answer bluntly. "I've had some renowned tutors, and I was among their more advanced students."

"Then he's lucky", he replied. "He might learn something new from you while you're here."

"I… suppose", Amelija blinked at that unexpected compliment. Alina made no sound, but her grip on his arm tightened very slightly.

"That's true. I think Walter is hungry for some knowledge and guidance", Alina remarked, "even if he sometimes seems like all he wants to do is prove that he doesn't need anyone."

"I'm not sure I want a sassy child in my daily schedule." Amelija mumbled under her chin.

"Oh, I felt the same", Erik retorted before Alina could start talking her into it, "unfortunately, it's not up to you. Walter's tenacity when some subject catches his interest is astounding; your best bet is to give him tasks hard or extensive enough that they will occupy him long enough that you can get some peace."

"And you're speaking from personal experience?" Amelija raised a judgmental eyebrow at him.

"Oh, yes. If you don't have Alina's patience and kindness, which I don't", he bowed his head humbly at Alina who rolled her eyes, "you have to resort to other solutions to keep your peace and quiet. I've had quite a lot of experience avoiding her large flock of children until she can deal with them herself."

"I see", Amelija smiled a sincerely mischievous smile at him for the first time. "Sound advice, from one unkind and impatient arse to another."

ooo

He played along. The sisters' talking and bickering was a welcome distraction from the hurricane in his mind, and even though it exhausted him tremendously to constantly pay attention to his surroundings and the conversation, he gave a few tentative attempts to participate - but still, as Amelija excused herself in the evening and left them alone in the kitchen to go sleep in her room, he breathed a sigh of relief. He grabbed a plate to finally eat his first meal of the day now that he could relax, and sat opposite to Alina who took her hairpins out and ruffled her hair.

"What happened with Jack?" she asked, relaxing her head on her hand.

"Nothing. Everything is perfectly normal with Jack", he replied tensely. "Why are you asking?"

"You know why I'm asking", she smiled. "You're distressed."

"Am I so _fragile_ that I cannot handle a little distress?" he hissed, looking angrily at his plate, when he noticed her frowning and pulling back a little in the corner of his eye.

"I'm sorry. That was not directed at you in the slightest." Erik sighed, rubbing his temple. "Please don't look at me like that. I've had a long day, and as I said I'm sorry."

Alina nodded, still looking slightly annoyed.

"Fine." he told her everything that happened since the morning - starting with the fleeting almost-admission of his wariness about her family, and ending with everything that happened with Jack and Heidel.

Alina listened silently, then nodded once again when he was done, moving to sit next to him.

"I don't know what to think about it all", he admitted.

Alina shrugged. "It sounds to me like you've maybe made a... friend who is also a musician."

"No?" he turned to her in surprise. "For that to happen, wouldn't he actually have to like me? I don't feel like I've made a particularly good impression for now."

"I, uh, I hate to tell you this, darling", she shifted slightly in embarrassment, "but you, uh, never make a very warm and friendly impression when you meet someone. And yet we're all here."

He paused, then let out a short, quiet laugh. "That was painful, but deserved."

"When _we_ met, you -"

"Yes, I'm aware", he interrupted gently, taking her hand in his. "When we met, I said a great many disturbing things, and you sat there, listened politely, pretending very hard not to be scared, as I pretended very hard not to be completely enchanted. But," he waved his free hand, "if I'm being honest, I wasn't trying very hard to be polite to Heidel, and I didn't consider him as a friend as much as I was worried what he'd think about me as a musician."

"Luckily, he seems to think highly of you."

"Do you think so?" Erik scratched at his temple. "I'm not entirely sure what to think. I think someone of his caliber wouldn't bother trying to help me if he disliked what he saw - but -"

"But it bothers you that he doesn't think it's perfect", Alina mused. "He sees… mistakes."

"Yes", he admitted quietly.

"Hm." she paused for a moment as she tried to think of something useful to say. The concept of _mistakes_ always seemed to burn like hot iron in Erik's mind. A work that is _perfect_ would be _untouchable_ , she realized. It wouldn't be subject to analyzing, poking, prodding and criticizing - it would simply be- worthy of - Alina knew what it would be worthy of, but she doubted Erik wanted to talk about it so openly.

"I think it's juvenile of me to take this so personally", he admitted. "Jack is right, I- I should be able to talk to other musicians normally. It's the most natural thing in the world for most people."

"And for you?"

"Frankly, I would like to go to that cave a few miles from here and never emerge back to the surface until Heidel forgets he ever saw me or a single note I wrote down. It seems I am too, well, _fragile._ " he shook his head. That one remark stung him where it hurt - it was much worse than simply being told he was being _rude,_ to be made aware of how obvious it was that he was, in fact, afraid.

"Everyone is fragile", Alina shrugged. "And Jack likes to call you names when he's mad at you. I don't think he meant anything by it."

Erik kept silent, staring stubbornly ahead.

"I think he only does it when everything else fails", Alina stretched and continued before Erik could say anything else, "In any case, I have to say, that was an impressive amount of composure on your side. If I wasin that situation - I don't know, I think I'd be terrified. Maybe I'd just leave."

"I was", Erik replied barely above a whisper. "And I almost did."

"Ah, but you didn't."

"No." he bit his lip. "And now there is no going back. I have to see it through."

"No?" Alina smiled at him slightly. "You don't have to, you can simply never meet Heidel or mention it to him ever again."

"Oh, no", he shook his head, letting out a short laugh. "You know me better than that. I _have_ to do it now, or I'll eat myself alive."

"Alright, yes, I was just teasing you", she laughed back. "Once you're a famous musician, I do hope I'll get to hear your music."

" _Once I'm a famous musician_ ", he repeated mockingly as he stood up and pulled her by her hands, spinning her around, "as opposed to, say, hearing it every day all through your own house?"

END OF CHAPTER


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